


Brisk, Keen Dagger Bold

by BountyHuntress16



Series: Daughter of Gelmorra [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Astral Era Quests, Because this ends right before The Banquet, But it will be okay later, Communication Failure, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Duskwight Elezen Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Everyone is Queer, Expanded NPC Characters, F/F, F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Fisting, Food, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, Multi, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Patch 2.5: Before The Fall, Pining, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Switching, Thancred is Always Hard on Himself, That Thancred Scene in the Rising Stones, Threesome - F/F/F, Unresolved Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:21:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28825122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BountyHuntress16/pseuds/BountyHuntress16
Summary: She and Thancred are alike in so many ways, so compatible. It's easy to ignore the potential issues–until it's not.-Direct Sequel to "Obstacles in Trajectory." Spans all Astral Era Quests up to right before the Banquet.
Relationships: Warrior of Light/Thancred Waters
Series: Daughter of Gelmorra [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956604
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

> Tags reflect the whole story and are not indicative of what is in which chapter
> 
> (This means the fisting is in later chapters)

Cid is a treasure. 

Thanks to his new device, the late-night shower means her hair won’t be damp come morning. It _does_ take a while–her violet and white curls are thick and abundant–but well worth the time. When next she sees him, she’ll thank him for the blow dryer. (More than anything else, they’d bonded about hair care in Thanalan and Ishgard.)

Nerys leaves the bathroom and sinks into a high-backed chair, the plush cushion pressing the silk robe against her thighs in a way that feels indecent. She wriggles a little to better indulge the sensation. Even if there were such chairs in the big dormitory, it really isn't a place for lounging. Not to mention, she could never use the shared bathroom for hours to relax and do her hair.

But tonight, she has one of three private rooms in the Sands. And only feels a little guilty about sneaking away to enjoy it. Most of the others were well into their cups though, and on the verge of opening the next cask of mead. They deserve it too; after these long moons of fear and dread.

Tomorrow, she’ll return the room. No reason she cannot sleep in the big room or at The Goblet. _Tonight, I can be a little selfish._

Someone taps at the door. "One moment," she calls. "Who is it?"

She is decent enough for most–nearly all seasoned soldiers who won’t goggle at too much leg. Alphinaud however...he may be awkward, or he may say something about answering summons _in dishabile_. Diplomat he may be, but the same tactfulness does not always extend to his Scion comrades.

One day that boy is going to get a dose of reality. For now, he is an adolescent and as with all adolescents, he _surely_ knows everything. 

"It's me. May I come in?"

Nerys might be overdressed for that particular voice. She opens the door and finds Thancred, a sheepish smile on his face.

How good it is to see him as himself, not contorted into Lahabrea’s vessel. She could hug him–again. They had all embraced him and embraced him and embraced him yesterday. A crying mess of relief and disbelief. 

"Yes you may," she says, opening the door wide enough for him to step inside.

As he passes, she feels his eyes hot upon her and the petal pink silk against her skin. Like a man parched in the desert, at last finding water. She resists tugging at the hem grazing her upper thighs.

"Only three private bedrooms in the place and you've secured one." He says, taking a walk about the room. Running a hand over the back of the plush chair. "Whatever did you do to earn such an honor?"

Nerys laughs. "A few favors here and there, nothing of real note."

Thancred grins and her heart flutters in the way it used to. Making her feel like a maiden with a crush rather than a woman with too much experience to feel...giddy. But the sight also summons discomfiting memories: his face twisted in malicious glee, Nerys holding Minfilia back on the airship as she cried in horror and anguish.

Nerys comforted her that night. Let her talk and talk and talk till her sorrow calmed and her voice went. They'd at last ended up on the chaise, Minfilia's head in her lap as Nerys stroked her hair and hummed till the other woman fell asleep. 

"Oh. You went somewhere just now." He says, lifting an eyebrow. Affecting a cocky expression that doesn't counter the wariness in his eyes. 

"I'm just glad to see you," she says. Which is true, and easier than explaining. "And I see you found your usual wardrobe."

He stops his meandering next to the bed. Gestures at himself. "I was grateful for the hempen clothes the Flames scrounged up...but they did not quite suit."

"Oh I don't know. You looked rather fetching in all white."

"As you do in pink." He smirks.

"Thank you," she murmurs. "Ah...was there something you needed?"

"Needed...wanted…" Thancred shrugs. "You saved me several times over. That calls for a reward."

Nerys holds up a hand to stop him. "Thancred, of course I saved you. You're my comrade." Had they been the most distant of colleagues she would have still rescued him with no eye to compensation.

"No no," he also raises a hand also. "I know you would have. Ever noble, our Warrior of Light."

More heat fills her. "And you're my...friend."

"Your….friend." He mimics the pause, his gentle laugh taking out the sting. "I suppose that is the best word for it? Things went so sideways after we became _friendly_ in your Cavern."

_Crowding him against the cavern wall, her hand sliding over the hot length of him. Her nostrils filling with the scent of damp earth and rock and the subtle cologne he favors. His mouth trailing fevered kisses, wet and hungry against her neck and throat._

The night she soothed Minfilia, she locked away the memory of the Cavern. Better to focus on the monumental task. Especially if they could not save him from the Ascians.

"Regardless of all that...you are ever my friend. You lost that battle at the trading post."

He sighs, taking to the role like any thespian to the stage. "Poor me. Well, there is no reason thanking you can't be enjoyable or something I would have liked anyway."

"...Huh. I am starting to think this is less a reward for me and more-"

He sits on the edge of the bed and crooks a finger. Need pools in her core. It has been a while since someone took care of her. She’s aware of the pulse between her thighs as she approaches, sinking to her knees between his parted legs.

"Ah ah ah." His calloused hand touches her cheek. "Not that I don't want your lovely mouth, but I never did return the favor you gave me."

She looks up at him, watching as he tugs off his boots and slithers onto the bed. He beckons again and she follows. The top of her robe opens as she crawls and she’s aware of how much of her breasts it reveals. His eyes darken at the sight and she shivers.

"I want you to sit here," he says, voice low. His hand gestures to his sensual mouth. "And I want to devour your cunt and your clit until you are satisfied and coming upon my face. After that...we’ll see how else I can serve you, Mistress Eluned."

Arousal prickles through her entire body, the back of her neck seizing with strange awareness. As long as he uses that tone of voice, she will do anything he asks. After a few moments his eyebrows raise in challenge and she realises she has stopped moving. Too dazed by half.

Nerys reaches him, swinging one leg over to straddle his chest. Her bare sex against his shirt feels delicious and she shifts, reveling in the friction of it. 

“No smalls? Bless you.”

“I didn’t expect company.” She wants him naked, but not yet. Not before he makes good on his promise.

His hands curl to her large blue-gray thighs, fingertips pressing into the thick muscle. "Closer, let me see that pretty cunt. I didn’t get to, in the Cavern."

It's a word she has never tolerated before, but when he says it everything in her turns to liquid and fire. She drags against him as she moves upwards, his grip a steady pull until his nose brushes against her curls.

Nerys used to have it all ripped off with hot wax in Old Gridania. But that was before her adventuring days and getting caught up in gods and the fate of the world. Which meant the last time for her had been in Bentbranch Meadows with-

"Prettier than I even guessed," he says, nuzzling against her. "And I haven't even seen it all."

Nerys shudders, her walls already clenching. "Look at that. The former bard has found his silver tongue-"

"Cheeky." He gives her rump a light slap and she jerks forward. Rogue that he is, Thancred takes advantage of her lost balance to pull her further atop him. His tongue slides along the outside of her seam.

His hands slip up under the hem of her robe, grasping where rump meets thigh. Ten points of delicious pressure. Nerys presses her hands over his, urging him to grip as tight as he pleases. When he does, she puts her own palms against the headboard to hold tight. _Twelve, but he feels good._

She has neglected her needs far too long. She fears she may come too soon or not at all.

"Perfect," he murmurs against her, angling so that the tip of his tongue teases her entrance. Her own breath feels too ragged and too loud and he's barely begun. 

Thancred’s moans become muffled, his tongue licking deep into her. She grips the headboard so tight the edge bites its imprint into her flesh. Her hips begin to jerk in time with his devouring, seeking more and more. Sounds of slick flesh twine with his groans of delight. The sweetest music she has heard all year..

She whines. "Please...Thancred please…"

He answers with a hum but does not move to touch her clit with tongue or fingers. Nerys buries her hands in his hair, tugging at the white strands. This time he favors her with a moan of such pleasure, she feels like she has unlocked something. And will gladly pull his hair all he wants if it gets him off that much-

Someone knocks at the door.

"...be very quiet," Nerys whispers.

"Nerys?" She hears Alphinaud say. "Are you in there?"

"Ah...sorry I was...falling asleep," she says, and feels Thancred laugh beneath her.

"Oh. I had hoped to discuss a few matters with you. May I come in?"

"No!" She cries and then curses under her breath.

"...Nerys?"

"Sorry Alphi," she says, one hand clutching her forehead. "Only I'm not decent and I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable."

And this is when Thancred repositions her, poised to devour her clit the moment it is safe. She tugs at his hair to make him stop and his eyes flutter shut.

"O-oh. Then shall I meet you with the others?"

"No, I think I shall turn in tonight." She manages to break free of Thancred’s grip enough to hoist herself up away from him. "Tea with sunrise as usual?"

The pause is very long before he responds. "Nerys, are you alright? Truly?"

"Truly," she says. "Only exhausted from our labors."

"Of course." She hears the warmth and worry in his voice. "Then I will bend your ear at sunrise."

"I look forward to it!" Nerys glares down at Thancred. He is doing a very poor job of not laughing as Alphinaud's footsteps recede.

"You," she hisses, "are a brat."

"Mm. If you continue to pull my hair so, I shall be very good for you." 

"I should kick you out," she continues. He only laughs more, reaching up to stroke her and smirking when a full shudder goes through her.

"I don't plan on leaving a job quarter-done." He eases her back down and she–weak as she is–lets him. "Shall I?"

Nerys sighs. "Fine but-" 

She has not made a noise close to a squeak in a very long time. Until now, when he suckles at her sensitive bud. The headboard keeps her somewhat anchored though it’s painful against her palms. And then it doesn’t matter because everything is his mouth and his hands and the building, building pressure; the tightness growing in her legs, the way her thighs shake.

Her vision blurs until she shuts her eyes. Needy, pleading, desperate sounds spill from her. All through it, he keeps the tight grip she requested and drives at her clit. Every part of her grows more taut in anticipation as she chases release.

"Fu-Fuck," she gasps as it surges through, bending her like a bow into his mouth. And for several blissful moments, her mind does nothing but listen to her harsh breathing.

He licks her through the tremors until the oversensitivity drives her to pull away.The bottom half of his face glistens, his eyes half-lidded and dreamy. She pries her hands off the board to smooth his hair out of his face. 

“Well.” Thancred’s voice is soft, husky.

“Well.” Nerys’ fingers slide down his jaw, the sides of his neck, dragging to the collar of his shirt. “I want you naked. If you have the strength for it…”

His smile is a flash of white before he catches her in his arms, lifting her without strain and setting her beside him. To further prove his prowess, he flings aside his layered shirts and reveals a trim, athletic physique. Lean–to better slink in shadows and slip into alleyways–but defined from his kneadable pectorals to the rippling abdomen. Nerys has a vision of licking down, following the lines disappearing beneath his trousers.

"Do you approve then?" He says, catching her appraisal.

"I told you the bit where I find you infuriatingly attractive?"

Glee lights up his face. "Say that again. But slowly."

Nerys rolls her eyes and reaches for her sash. He is quicker, untying the loose knot and dragging it free. Silk whispers against silk and he winds the pink length around his palm, before slipping it into his pocket.

"A favor from my lady," he says, pushing the open robe down about her shoulders.

Cool air kisses the top of her breasts, pebbles her violet nipples into stiff peaks. "What if I want to close my robe someday?" 

"Then I will buy you half a score more. But this one...this one is _mine._ "

At that, he lowers his mouth to the swell of her breasts before sliding down to suckle at one nipple. Nerys squirms and in response, he grips the fabric of her robe to pin her arms to her sides. There is no real force; she could free herself in an instant. But she doesn’t _want_ to and she moans aloud, slick heat pulsing between her legs. A knowing gleam shines in his eyes.

Thancred keeps her positioned so, pulling the silk even tighter with each jolt that rocks through her. Lifts a head for a moment to smirk at her before attending to her other nipple. Gods but his tongue is a wonder, curling around her in deft strokes, alternating with light scrapes of teeth. She has to shut her eyes a moment, her breath loud in her ears.

“My lady is responsive,” he purrs. The restraining grip leaves and she is disappointed only a moment before he begins kneading her breasts. “Look at you, these barely fit in my hands. I could slide my cock between them and come on your pretty face. Would you like that?"

He pinches her nipples and she moans again, nodding at his suggestion. Picturing it with ease–him kneeling over her, using her as she did him. Angled so she might catch the tip of his cock with her tongue. Her hands reach out, grasping at his hips.

"Another time," he promises, pulling away from her. Her words seem to have disappeared when he took her sash, all things she had no true use of. Nerys’ whine of protest dies down when he strips off pants and smalls in quick order

Their coupling in The Cavern had been hurried, too dark to get a look at his prick. Now she admires the swollen head, the pale hair curling above, the moisture gleaming at the tip. In the dark, she’d traced a path over and over. Memorized the considerable length as it grew in her hand, the slight curve.

She does it again, sliding a closed fist around him to reacquaint herself. That touch in the dark had been enough to wonder how he’d feel inside her. Not as thick as some she’s had, but she suspects he’ll hit deeper than most. 

"Careful," he warns with a sigh and no real reproach. "I wouldn't want to deprive you too early."

"Then I won't take you in my mouth," she replies as she twists her hand. "Not tonight, anyway."

Thancred groans. "You will be the death of me, Mistress Eluned."

"Oh I hope not. How do you want me?"

In answer he gathers her again, seating her upon his stomach as he lays back upon the coverlet and pillow. She is considerably taller than him–than any of them, save Urianger. There is glory and warmth, looking down at him like this with his expression full of adoration.

"So wet for me," says Thancred, sliding a hand beneath her. Parting her for him. Nerys lifts herself up, guiding him into her; bit by bit, stretching unused muscles and hitting to the right spot near at once. 

The feeling leaves her gasping, reaching out. He reaches out at once to lace their fingers together. An anchor she clings to. There is no holding back or hiding in this position. Especially not when his hips jerk up and she grinds down and neither can keep quiet.

" _Twelve above_ ," Nerys moans as their bodies slap together. "Whatever you d-do, don't s-stop-"

His answering laugh dissolves into a moan, his hands squeezing hers tighter as she bounces atop him. Thancred's cock hits her deep over and over, his hips picking up speed until she has no presence of mind to muffle herself. Through it, he coaxes and encourages her, silver tongue dropping maple sugar sweet words she barely catches. She knows he praises her, that he isn’t stopping even as his breath quickens.

Her hands catch at cool air and Nerys cries out, bereft. She is a bundle of feelings and pleasure and sounds and _need,_ such desperate need. And then his arms close around her when he sits up, shifting her with him to thrust upon his lap. His lips touch her chest, her throat, the underside of her chin. A hand cradles her face down and she bends to him. His kiss is as hungry and consuming as his relentless hips.

With each movement, she thrills higher and higher to the peak she needs. It’s in sight now, closer with each thrust. And she cannot stop gasping, encouraging him. Her nails dig into his shoulders, her long legs tighten like a vice around him. Thancred slips a hand between them and everything _snaps_ like a taut thread.

Shaking, shuddering, she convulses around him. Screams into his shoulder as he charges forward, his cock sliding into her now-sensitive opening, a stream of words pouring from his lips.

"-good girl good girl so good for me don't stop moving please your cunt is sucking me in so sweet I need-"

He gasps at last, making a strangled noise as he spills into her. His hips are lost to momentum, barely slowing as he comes and the room fills with lurid, slick sounds. 

Nerys rests her cheek upon his shoulder and gives into the soft daze. 

Their chests move together with their slowing breath. Sweat clings to them both, her hair damp again and pressed against her neck and shoulders. His plastered to his forehead until he pushes it back. Pushes her hair back too, tucking strands behind her ear.

"We're even," she murmurs. 

He laughs. "No, no, I'm not sure...I think we have to do this at least a few more times."

She giggles against his shoulder.

* * *

When Nerys enters the common area, Alphinaud goes scarlet as a tomato. 

His fingers flutter before settling upon the teapot and removing the steeping chamber. It goes on an empty saucer, his eyes trained on the dark liquid pooling on the blue-glazed surface.

“Good morning," says Nerys. "Are you...alright?"

"Fine! Fine. I've picked a blend from Ul'dah today." He begins to pour, a faint tremor in his elegant hands.

Nerys sits down, studying him. Their sojourn in Coerthas with Cid illuminated much about how to approach him. The direct approach is likely best.

"Alphinaud," she says, voice firm but quiet. "Please tell me what is the matter."

She did not think he could become more red and yet, here he is. Trying very hard to look composed and mature. "I...did not realise you had company when I called upon you last night."

"When you...oh." Now is her turn for mortification. "I told him to be quiet when you approached, I didn't mean-"

"No, no, it was when I came back later. Everyone else was imbibing and I was quite tired, and as you had left I had no one to speak with…” He clears his throat. "It wasn't intentional, I promise. Only my quarters are past the room you were staying in and…"

And after he left, she had thrown discretion to the wind. Shouted with abandon. Nerys winces. "Again, my apologies. I should have thought someone might be trying to sleep." 

She has never known him to take anything in his tea. Now, she watches him pour a hefty dollop of cream and drop in three sugar cubes with a soft _plink plink plink._ He'll not be able to taste this blend’s distinct spices.

"If I may…" Alphinaud drains half of the delicate blue and gold teacup before setting it upon a saucer. He does not wait for permission to proceed. "Are you certain...it is wise to get involved with Thancred?"

It takes a great deal of fortitude to not get upset. "Thancred is a good man and a trusted comrade. What happened was not his fault-"

"No, no, not that." He makes an impatient gesture. "We all know that he is not to blame for what Lahabrea did. I only mean-I have known Thancred most of my life and he can be..careless with the hearts of others."

“Ah. Alphinaud, it is fine. You needn’t worry about it.”

"How can you be sure?" He presses. "I do not want to see you hurt-"

"Alphinaud." She gives him a look. "I am glad to know you care. But what happens in my personal life is not up for debate." Especially not with an adolescent; prodigy or not.

He sighs but nods. Swirls his light, light tea before quaffing the rest. "...Very well. How does one change the subject from this topic?"

"What? You never had this kind of conversation with your sister?"

"Twelve forfend, no! Alisaie would just as soon strangle me if I tried." He blanches at the look she gives him for that. "Well you are different Nerys. You usually listen to my advice."

"Being a strategic genius does not a relationship expert make," she says, not unkindly. "Tell me more of your sister. I was not able to speak with her much when we first met."

The question of _intentions_ lingers with her. She will never, ever admit as much to Alphinaud. Lest he dispense more advice when she takes lovers. That he is more hesitant of angering his sister than an adult comrade means either Alisaie is formidable, or Nerys not as frightening as rumors say.

Possibly, it is both. 

She finds Thancred in the open space behind the Waking Sands and Vesper Bay, a favored training area. He is game for a match and she eager to test him. They need to re-hone his instincts after all the time spent a prisoner in his own body. 

He baits her with innuendo throughout. Nerys doesn’t respond because in real combat, she would remain stoic. But she remembers every single one to repay him later. And if she is a little rough with him, pushes him a bit more than usual...well, it doesn’t stop him from complimenting how _well_ she _handles a shaft._

"Phew," he pants after an hour, clutching both his daggers. "I am satisfied. But...are you?"

Nerys responds by sweeping her lance and forcing him to jump into the air. Quick as a cat he leaps, laughing as he plummets down.

"Yes," she says. "My work is done for the day, I think."

"Good. Because there are dark caves along the shore below that-

"But." She holds up a hand. And then freezes. Every way she thinks to start this conversation seems ominous.

"...Ye-es?" He asks after a long pause, stretching the syllables. 

Nerys sighs. "I do not know what to say other than 'we should talk.'”

Wariness fills his expression, sets tension to his jaw and shoulders. She hurries on. “It isn't-I only think we should set a few ground rules? As we need to work together."

"That is better to hear. Though, still not very much fun."

Nerys spreads her hands. "In my experience, things go poorly without the negotiations. Unless...you are planning on this not lasting long?" 

Thancred shakes his head, hand slicing in the air with denial. "Oh no. I very much want this to happen when it can, for as long as we like."

Relief pulses through her. She would have survived had he only wanted her a few nights but...it would have been disappointing. "And I suspect you stopped holding back from me _because_ you know we could have a special arrangement."

“...More or less.” Thancred’s expression opens a little. When he slides a hand over her hip and rubs a circle, she still feels tension in his fingers. As if she might snatch all of this away the moment he steps fully into her snare.

By now, she knows he would blame himself if she were that cruel. Seduction is like breathing for him but this part...it’s a vulnerability he hasn’t shown many. Of that, she is completely certain.

"Why suffer in denial, when the lady tells you she likes an open relationship?" He adds. She shouldn’t be able to feel him so well through her leather armor, but her skin warms beneath his touch. He leans up on tiptoe-

Nerys presses two fingers to his mouth. "No, no, we have to hold off a few moments longer."

Thancred captures her wrist, draws it to his mouth. His pink tongue parts her fingers and lathes along the juncture between, sliding against her leather gloves-

Nerys takes a few steps back and _tries_ to look composed. "Right now, there is no one else. So I plan on...monopolizing you for a while-”

“Please do, monopolize me-”

“-But, if someone else enters the picture, let us be honest. And not careless with each other. When I make plans with you, I will follow through,”

Thancred nods, his eyes trained on hers. Echoes the terms back. "If I have an assignation with you, I won't stand you up. If someone catches my eye, I will let you know."

"Agreed. If one of us is out in the field, we can talk about it once we're back here."

"Agreed." He once more closes the distance between them. "Would you like to keep this quiet? Do you have a preference?"

"Ah...well." Nerys gives a wry smile. "Alphinaud overheard last night and gave me a talk this morning. We can at least be professional when called for and as discreet as possible? I cannot show you favors in battle...but if someone asks me if we're sleeping together, I'll not be embarrassed to say yes."

"...Gave you a talk," Thancred repeats. "You cannot leave it just there."

“Suffice it to say, I had to set a few boundaries. He thinks to save me from trouble."

Thancred snorts, catching her about the waist. "You do not want to be saved, I think."

"No, nor do you." She sighs. "Oh–as to the matter of bringing in thirds or fourths…"

His eyes widen at that. 

“That must be agreed upon _before_ we talk to the other parties. If you show up at my door with someone unannounced, I'll send you on your way."

"Noted," he says, still looking a little stunned. 

"Thancred…" Nerys touches his chin, tilting it up. "Have you...had a threesome before?"

She never thought she would see Thancred blush. But here he is. "I have. I have! Just...never has a partner offered one in this way."

"Of course you have." Laughter bubbles inside her. She _does_ believe him, but his indignation is too good. "But if you happen to have any questions about how they would work or even what one was…"

He seizes the back of her neck and kisses her, dragging her down to the fierce reprimand of tongue and lips. His teeth catch her lower lip and she feels her knees buckle-

Thancred pulls away, smirking at her involuntary whine. "I can tease too, sweetheart."

"Oh no, how shall I cope?" She hopes her sarcasm covers her fluster. The way he looks like a satisfied feline in a creamery, she suspects not. 

“About those caves I mentioned…”

The rocky shore along the sea is dotted with coves and caverns, only a hike-and-climb away. No trouble for warriors like them. And it doesn’t hinder the crackling tension between them. The longer it takes to descend, the more Nerys wants him. Feels it sparking through her with each measured step along the cliff and leap over precarious terrain. 

The cove they choose is damp but well secluded, the inlet covered on all sides by craggy rock. It must fill with water when the tide is in. They are in no danger now, but she does imagine the thrill of trying to finish as water rises about them. 

_We could try it next time..._

She removes her gloves, tossing them to the ground. Thancred smirks at her, some joke forming on the tip of his tongue. It is her turn to tease him, so she drops to her knees and pins his hips to the wall. Her boots sink into the loam floor, both hindering and helping her balance.

"Nerys," he groans, entire body going rigid with anticipation. 

“Stay there,” she says, hurrying to unbuckle his belt. He obliges for the moment. Watches her fumble at the buttons in her haste. She draws in a short breath to slow herself down. 

At last, Nerys draws him out of his smalls. Runs her tongue over the velvety side of him, the underside of him, one hand strokes his balls with a feather touch. That is the limit of his obedience–Thancred pushes his hips towards her as his hands reach for her hair.

She is quicker, bracing a forearm against his abdomen to keep him in place. The other hand slides around his shaft and teases up and down the length of it. And then she stops, to his evident frustration.

“One thing,” she says, grinning up at him. His cheeks are flushed, bottom lip worried between her teeth. She lets go of him, just for this part of negotiations. “A word for if one of us needs to stop.”

Thancred exhales a long, drawn out breath. Swallows. “If you’re wondering if I was enjoying your roughplay just now, the answer is yes.”

“I’m glad to hear that. My word is ‘stop.’ It’s what I reach for on instinct so…”

“Clear and to the point.” His eyes flutter shut. “Mine is ‘Ballad.’”

“Ballad,” Nerys repeats, committing it to memory. Her hand resumes stroking him, feeling heady power in the press of her arm against him. It is rare she wants control and even now, she knows this is something she won’t often ask for. _Something_ about his half-lidded gaze and parted mouth fills her with wonder.

She quite literally holds him in the palm of her hand. 

Her lips graze the very tip of him, opening a moment before closing to him again. Nerys drags her tongue along the underside, at the juncture of head and shaft before swirling over the swollen tip. Thancred makes a desperate noise–hips pushing for freedom–but he does not call for a halt.

"The more you tease," he groans. "The more I’ll repay the favor.”

“Do you promise?” Her lips wrap around the tip, suckling lightly. His eyes are dark as he looks down at her and she meets his gaze, smirking around him. 

“You have my vow,” he says, voice rough and harsh,

Nerys grips his shaft and eases him into the wet heat of her mouth. Ilm by ilm, refusing to let him thrust further than she allows. His groans rise higher, needier; his hands dig into her scalp. That almost breaks her–the sensation prickling all the way down to her core. She presses her tongue against him as she gathers back control.

Now she relaxes her throat and continues to take the great length of him. Thancred bucks again, and again she keeps him contained until at last...she doesn’t. His voice is a strangle of groan and curse. Fucking into her mouth with abandon, grip so tight she feels her own hips jutting in response. And their eyes do not leave each other, though he clearly fights the urge to close his in surrender.

She is pushed back and his cock frees from her lips. Instinct has her chasing after it, only for him to stop her with a firm grip on her shoulders. “Your turn, sweetheart. Off with the breeches and the boots. The belt too, it will get in the way.”

“Maybe I want you to work for it.”

Thancred snorts. “Perhaps some other time. Now, strip.”

Rather than miffed to have the reins taken from her, the command has her eager to comply. Jittery hands battle with buckles and straps, tossing the garments aside. He strokes himself while she does, and she wants so badly to help him finish. Nerys is not one to leave a job half-done.

He crouches to one knee, grip tight on her legs as he guides her to lie on her back. The wet sand molds to her shoulders in a perfect cast while he keeps the rest of her above it, waiting for him. Expecting the diligent attendance of tongue and lips on her sex. Instead, he works two fingers inside her and begins to stroke.

"So wet already," he breathes. "Did sucking me off do that?"

She shudders. "M-maybe I'm learning to like holding the reins from time to time."

"Learning? You excelled." He presses a thumb against her clit, watching as she jerks and twists against the damp ground. "I would have thought you had practice taking the lead."

"N-not usually. Not outside of disobeying to earn sweeter punishment."

His gaze then is like a rough caress. "I've ‘punishment’ for you now, but I think you'll like it."

"Do it then." She cants her hips forward.

Thancred draws her legs onto his shoulders, rising till her shoulders are near off the ground. The longer he waits, the more vulnerable she feels and his grip keeps her from rubbing her thighs together. Her fingers dig into the loam.

He is still clothed, pants bunched about his upper legs. His knuckles brush her entrance as he grips his shaft just below the head. Teasing against her till she clenches with need. It’s wet from her mouth and his pre-cum, cool from the briny sea breeze wrapping about them. Nerys makes a soft sound.

"You made me wait," he murmurs. "Pinning my hips, only letting a little of my cock in your mouth at a time. If you had asked me anything then, I would have done it. Just so you would grant me relief.”

"Thancred, please…"

He allows an ilm to enter her and she rocks best as she can, chasing the feel of him. Trying to swallow more of him inside her. The ache in her threatens to encompass her entire being.

Rogues strike without warning. So does he, piercing her to the hilt. 

Nerys cries out, fingers sinking deeper into the loam. He thrusts into her without pause. Not even as he bends over her, bracing his forearms on either side of her. She can do nothing but take him as he hits the deepest parts of her over and over. 

Her head lolls to the side, cheek sinking like her shoulders and hands. His thumb is a constant pressure; but she suspects that for the first time, she’ll climax from penetration alone. She connects to her core, using it to buck and chase as much as the position will allow.

Thancred shifts until she is bent in half and that is so good, so overwhelming she loses herself. Delighting in the weight and pressure and the delicious submission of it all. When her hands itch towards her thighs to draw them even closer to her abdomen, he pounces. Pins her wrists by her shoulders. Even without his lovely fingers on her clit, she still barrels towards her climax. Sobbing for more and more and for him to not stop please don't stop-

Her screams echo around them, a curtain of sound in their cave. He wrings every drop of pleasure from her until she is a shaking mess, until her desperate gasps are soundless, and then he sinks into her. Shudders through his climax and fills her, practically roaring in ecstasy.

She opens her eyes. His face is red, his brow damp with sweat. The corners of his mouth twitch.

"Nerys," he murmurs. "You're covered in mud."

She would cover her face in embarrassment, but he still has her hands pinned. He seems not at all concerned about freeing her.

"Alright sweetheart, let's both of us take a dip on the ocean." His shoulders shake. "Otherwise, we might have to answer some questions on our return."

"Don't you laugh at me. This was your doing."

"I can't help it...you look so fetching." He leans down and kisses her, brief and gentle. At last removes his hands to stroke mud caked hair out of her face. "...Such a dirty girl."

That should _not_ affect her, but in response she sighs and clenches around his softening cock. His eyebrows shoot up and he adds, “I am going to remember that for later.”

"Ass," she murmurs, coating the word with all her fondness. His answering laugh as he withdraws is a sweet music all its own.

It does not take all that long to get rid of the mud in the ocean. They dawdle some, relaxing in the shallows under the warming heat of the sun. Running slick hands over each other in the name of ‘helping the other clean up.’ When they at last return to the Waking Sands, Alphinaud is waiting outside. 

"Nerys! I've a task for you. But first, we two need to speak with Minfilia."

Carrying her shoes, feet caked in sand, hair coated in drying sea salt; Nerys looks down at herself and laughs. So much for cleaning up in the sea. “I don’t suppose I have time to wash up?”

The boy sighs, darting a mistrustful glance at Thancred. Who does a very good job of not looking amused. “Yes but be quick. There’s a lot happening.”

“Yes sir.” She turns towards her companion. “I’ll see you, Thancred.”

"I do like to be seen." He grins. "Afternoon, Alphinaud."

Alphinaud gives a stiff little nod. "Thancred."

He strolls away, whistling a jaunty tune she recognizes from Limsa Lominsa. (Not the lyrics or the title though. She assumes it’s bawdy.) For her part, Nerys strides towards the building before Alphinaud forgets his promise about lines and boundaries.


	2. II.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild spiciness in this chapter but more tension, more discussions

The best part of the Rising Stones: enough private rooms for all.

No more folding their entire organization into a small space. No more sending people to the inns or laying travel bedrolls on the floor when all cots are spoken for.

Nerys hasn’t seen her room yet. Tataru describes it over linkpearl and asks for color preferences (nothing is guaranteed, but she’ll try her best). She meets Y’shtola out in the field and asks about _her_ room. The other woman is still wildly, disconcertingly pretty but hearing her wax about linens eases some of Nerys’ fluster around her.

(Eventually, she will get ahold of herself.)

The Rising Stones is relaxed and cheerful on her return. Closer to the atmosphere in the Seventh Heaven than a serious hub for the realm’s elite warriors. F’lhaminn mixes drinks behind the bar, the rattle of ice cubes in her shaker overlaying the gentle chatter. New arrivals from Doma form loose circles, intermixed with junior and senior members of the Scions.

Higiri steps behind the counter with a crate of bottles clinking inside. Nerys lifts a hand in greeting–they’d become fast friends when she escorted the Doman contingent. The pretty maiden inclines her head in return, the corners of her mouth lifting in a warm smile.

Thancred leans against the bar, chin in hand. "I'm not sure what we did to deserve such enchanting ladies attending to our food and drink. But I'm glad for it."

Higiri and F’lhaminn share looks, just concealing their laughter. Thancred slides a hand through his hair, an effortless flip to better show his smile and eyes. "Now, neither of you best laugh at me. You know I have a tender heart."

F'lhaminn moves a glass aside before he can knock it over. "You should see a healer, if that is the case."

Nerys snorts a bit too loud and several pairs of eyes swivel towards her. Thancred looks like a man caught. 

_It is the first time our arrangement has been put to the test._ Partly to assure Thancred he is doing nothing wrong, partly because both women are fetching; she saunters over and extends a hand to F'lhaminn. "May I show him how it's done?"

“You may,” says F’lhaminn, placing her well-manicured fingers into Nerys’ waiting palm.

Nerys brings her knuckles up, kissing the air above them. Any instructor of Ishgardian or Ul’dahn etiquette would approve. "Thank you so much for taking care of us, Mistress F'lhaminn. Mistress Higiri." She lets go with a deep incline of her head that allows her to look up through lowered lashes. "Is there any way I can help you with your duties?"

"...ah," says Higiri. "I know you are playacting, but we do need someone to hunt for us."

"Of course." Nerys says, giving her softest, sweetest smile. "Anything to make your life here easier. You need only ask."

"O-oh." Higiri blushes. Shakes her head quickly. " _Oh_ , that is dangerous. Well done."

Thancred relaxes beside her. "You have an unfair advantage on me, Nerys. Who wouldn't get weak-kneed before a hero of legend?"

"He missed the point," Nerys tells the two women, expression grave. They nod back. All three manage not to laugh at his cry of indignation.

It’s a welcome relief after a long, stressful week. And as Higiri sets to work stocking the shelves, Thancred looks at her and there is...something in his gaze. Like he spies the knots of tension beneath her good cheer. F’lhaminn moves to pour her a drink and he brushes his hand over hers, squeezing.

Later, hours later; Thancred has her bent over her new amethyst coverlet, under the lilac canopy of her new bed, moaning into her pillow. And then screaming into it as one hand stings against her rump and the other tangles in her curls.

It is exactly what she needed–to focus solely on overwhelming pleasure until her whole body and mind were pliant. Thancred collapses atop her, panting into her nape. His hands brush her hair away, his lips feather over the side of her neck.

She is in no rush to open her eyes, nor does she plan on passing out. The space between is plenty lovely.

"I...forgot what we were talking about," Nerys admits. 

His chuckle rumbles through her. Pleasant, warm. "We were discussing if you were okay with me flirting with Higiri and F'lhaminn. And then, you said you missed me and needed me and I had no reason or will to deny you…”

"Right, right." She turns her head as much as she can. Her light tone is deliberate as she continues. “I thought getting involved with others in the Order was a line you didn’t want to cross. At least, for those who wouldn’t be interested in _this_ sort of arrangement.” 

“Flirting is different. At least, I think so. I was a bit ah...harsh on myself with you. But in my defense, you were _incredibly_ difficult not to moon over.” He slides a hand beneath her, cupping her breast. Even sated, he likes the constant sensation of touch. “I don’t plan on taking either to bed. A pity, but given the circumstances…”

"Mm. Minfilia might have an objection or two."

"Minfilia would give me a look that said 'I am very disappointed in you.' And there are many things I would sooner bear." 

"Agreed." Nerys tries to get up. Thancred grumbles, tightening his grip and nuzzling his cheek against her. “You...know I wouldn’t be mad if things were different, right? If they gave indication they’re also not looking for something exclusive.”

He hums rather than answer, gathering his thoughts. 

“So you _might_ object, but not for what I would assume.”

“Right, that.”

Thancred sighs. “I know I am allowed to sleep with other people…”

“...but?”

"...it is one thing to agree in theory, another in practice. You've not given me reason to doubt and yet I keep imagining that I misunderstood all along.”

"Ah. I know the feeling." She gives up trying to rise. Lays her cheek upon the pillow and her folded arms. "I'm sure you could still upset me. If the person was truly awful, or I thought you were being unkind to your paramour."

“To the first point, I think I have excellent taste. As to the second...I do not set out to be unkind. But many would say that I was, at the end.”

Her stomach twists some at that. There are some who might say she was cruel, the ones who misunderstood her desires or intentions. Mistook her needs as insults. But others would say so, because she truly _had_ hurt them.

“I would rather see you kind,” she says.

“For you?” His lips touch her shoulder. “Anything.”

She wants to believe him, and takes his vow without further question.

* * *

Primals keep her busy.

She assumes Thancred makes use of their agreement. The times they see each other (with Leviathan, and again with Ramuh) leave no time for trysts or much conversation. There are brief touches: his hand on her back to steady her. Her fingers skimming over him in search of injury. Bumping her hip against his, after a long night of Sylph glamour and trickery.

Nerys manages a few nights here and there with people who don’t recognize her. It is not so easy, finding lovers as Warrior of Light. Many seem ready to compose an epic poem about their soon-to-be romance even when she makes her expectations clear. Those she often catches _before_ she takes them to bed. Others treat her like a porcelain doll, mortified when she asks for a firmer touch. Afraid to bruise Eorzea’s champion.

At long last, she satisfies one of her needs: sleeping an entire night and morning at the Rising Stones without interruption. (Instinct wakes her at dawn. It takes a while of luxuriating in the cocoon of blankets before she passes back into sleep.)

Light presses against her eyelids, filtering into the room through the clever vents that permit its passage without major security risk. Nerys fights the urge to wake a few minutes more before she opens bleary eyes. Squints at the handsome clock on the wall. 

Lunch time. Must be no one knows she’s here. And no current emergency, or they’d summon her via linkpearl. She _had_ arrived very late, only seeing F’lhaminn when she slipped in. Blessed, discreet F’lhaminn who now deserves a gift for her silence. (A bottle of semi-dry Wineport White? A day off where Nerys handles the Scions’ food and drink instead? A nice card?) 

She should lay here until it's noon, tomorrow. Even a body with The Echo needs rest. But the waste of it plucks at her. The morning is already gone. 

_If Thancred is in his rooms,_ she decides. _I'll enjoy more time in bed. If not, I’ll run errands._

It’s easy clothing for today–a rich blue tunic that nips in at the waist. Soft, kid-colored leather leggings and tall boots. The lance stays in her room for now, but she straps her hunting knife to her belt. She plaits her thick curls into a purple-and-white braid that hangs over one shoulder. 

It’s quiet.

Not in a way that indicates trouble. The Ironworks’ machinery hums throughout the building, alternating heaters and fans as the volatile Mor Dhona weather shifts. Doors open and close from the main rooms, the noises drifting to the private quarters.

The only footsteps are her own, a muffled echo against the stone floor. No glimpse of anyone passing through or emerging. Nerys walks three doors down from her own and readies to knock. Pauses, catches herself, listens. Sure enough: soft laughter ripples through the oaken door.

A moment later, it swings open and a stunningly pretty Miqo'te steps out. Her bob of white hair is mussed, her peach-colored dress half-laced in the front. A brilliant red mark blossoms on her neck.

"Oh," says Nerys. She is almost certain she knows this woman. "Sorry, I didn't realise he had company."

"I was just on my way, Mistress Eluned." Her large brown eyes appraise her, pink lips curve in a smile. It's the expression that places her–the tea shop she hasn’t gone to in far too long.

"Nice to see you, I'zalani." 

The young woman beams, inclining her head. "It's always a pleasure to see you, Mistress Eluned. Come visit us soon?"

"Soon," Nerys agrees, stepping aside to let her pass. Heating slightly at the wink sent her way. “I promise.”

Inside the room, Thancred looks up from stripping the sheets. He hasn’t put a shirt on, revealing bite marks on his neck and clavicle. Faint red lines run down his chest. Something about the sight makes her want to put her mouth on them, a sharp change from her placid mood moments prior. 

"Good morning," she says. Starting the conversation before he catches her staring. "Are you just getting out of bed as well?"

“Nerys! When did you get back?” His face lights up with a smile.

She cannot help but smile back in full as she sits in his high-backed embroidered chair. "Last night. I've been dead to the world ever since. Glad I didn’t entirely interrupt."

“Your timing is impeccable.” The fitted sheet goes into the hamper along with the pillow case. All are bound for the laundry room, equipped with a complicated network of spells and tech to make cleaning them instantaneous.

Imagine if she’d had that luxury as a youth, or even in the Waking Sands. Cid and his team really are marvels.

Her eyes flicker over the marks decorating him, the tantalizing red lines going from pectoral to abdomen, disappearing beneath his pants. “It was nice to see I’zalani...Thancred, you should have a care.”

He looks down at the hamper. Frowns. "What? What is it?"

“No, no, your bed is fine. She works at the tea shop. _With Cecile.”_

"...Oh," he says with a grin. The kind that has pulled him out of a thousand situations before. "Sweet Cecile. I enjoy flirting with her, of course. But it isn't the same as with 'Zalani."

Meaning Cecile is for flirting only. Which...

"You knowing that, and she knowing that, are two different things."

"Yes, yes, I know." He says, in the tone of one who doesn't know but wants to end the conversation. "Now, are you here because you are free today? Or is this a quick hello before you're off to help the world?"

Nerys feels her mouth tugging down into a frown without meaning to. There are more points to make and she would just like her...whatever he is to her, to be more thoughtful about the hearts he collects. But the set of his jaw and shoulders say he will not respond well to a lecture. Maybe he _does_ already know. 

Against better judgement, she lets it go. "I'm free as of now. I...may have purposefully avoided alerting people of my presence."

"Really?" He fetches a clean white shirt with a high collar, tugging it on. "That's not like you."

"Of course I’ll be on hand if there is an emergency. I...only needed a bit of breathing room-”

"It's a good idea. Alphinaud especially seems intent on running you ragged."

She shakes her head. "Don't be too hard on him. There are many tasks I'm the best equipped to take care of."

"Perhaps. Personally, I would rather give our Primal Slayer more respite than we do." He gestures for her to stand. "Come, we'll sneak into the laundry room and then I'll treat you to something in town. I'm ah...not currently up to anything more lascivious."

Nerys reaches him before he laces close his collar, tracing the edges of the bite marks. He shivers beneath her touch, tilting his head back to give her better access. "Did she wear you out that much?"

“And then some.” He rises up on his toes, pressing his mouth to hers. A gentle flutter of a kiss. She’s caught off guard and her eyes flicker to him for his motive. “There, now I’ve greeted you properly.”

"Oh." And that fluttering travels to her toes, curling them. "I could grow used to such greetings."

He winks and leads her through the corridors, treating it as if they are infiltrating a base. Making her wait at intervals while he scouts around corners or distracts passersby. She almost blows their cover from the laughter bubbling in her throat. It is...probably worrying how easily he can pull her from concerns to romping around their base. And she should care more.

Their subterfuge ends in the laundry room. Y'shtola is there, sliding her clothes through the hexagonal ash frame. With each pass it glows red and then blue, the garments emerging warm and clean. She glances at them as she shakes out a freshened tunic.

"Welcome back Nerys," she says with a warm smile that always curls something in Nerys' chest. _Admiratio_ n she thinks. _Pride that this incredible person thinks well of me._

"Shh," Thancred puts a finger to his lips. "Neither of us are here unless there is trouble."

Y'shtola considers this. When she nods, Nerys sighs. "Thank you, Y'shtola."

"Of course. I hope you know that we’re here to help, even if it's just letting you rest."

“I know,” Nerys says, feeling something tighten in her chest. She blusters on before it shows on her face. “I could not ask for better comrades.”

“At least, none more pretty to look at.” Thancred chimes in, flickering a searching glance over her. Caught out, it seems. He is getting good at that.

“True, true.” Nerys seizes upon the subject change. “Our group is an exceedingly pretty one.”

Y'shtola quirks a brow. "I’m not sure if I should be flattered or if you are including me out of politeness when really you mean just Thancred.”

Nerys' stomach flips over. "No, no, I mean you too. I think our group is pleasing to the eye."

"We are," Thancred agrees. "And _I_ shall be pleased if I might have the cleaning frame soon, 'Shtola."

"You might have left your bed earlier then."

Despite his urgency, Thancred distracts Y’shtola for a while longer. It’s some time before he can get to his linens. Nerys contents herself with sitting on the floor beneath a sun vent. When he returns from putting his laundry away, he’s acquired a russet velveteen jerkin with its own high collar, laced tight about the throat.

"It's been a trifle warm out there," she cautions. 

"For you perhaps." Thancred chuckles. "I am still a creature of the desert."

She ends up grateful to have opted for the tunic with sleeves she can roll up. The press of bodies in the market and bright sun remind her of early summer in the Shroud. Never mind that it’s autumn. The Calamity's effects on the climate of Coerthas also play havoc here. You might have snow and rain and heat on the same day for any season.

Thancred seems untroubled. Creature of the desert indeed. She wonders how he might fare at Camp Dragonhead.

Nerys replenishes her supplies for the field–various potions, salves, draughts, and herbs. Her dabbling in alchemy has remained just that: dabbling. There is so little time and she is busy training in the awl, the needle, and the skillet. No matter; the apothecary here is skilled and his prices fair. She thanks him for his time and stock, he tugs at the bandanna about his crown in a show of respect.

Thancred wanders to the loose configuration of guildworkers who sell in Revenant's Toll. There are no formal guilds here, truly no authority figures save for Slafborn and their own merchant princess, Rowena. _Technically,_ one most visit a guild’s headquarters in the city-states to join.

But the disciples of land and hand in Mor Dhona are practical. Some may have the ability to travel by aetheryte, but plenty get aether-sick. Of those who cannot, ‘tis a long and treacherous journey just to make it to an airship–never mind that airships are expensive and not accessible to everyone.

Instead, one could speak to the right person in Revenant’s Toll and “apprentice” until they made the trip. If they ever made the trip. No one in Ul’dah need know their new member mined under Brazel Coeurl’s tutelage for five years prior.

Nerys certainly hasn’t told.

She follows Thancred to where Brazen holds court, official and unofficial guild members across disciplines taking in his booming voice and wild gestures. The burly Roegadyn gives her a nod when she joins, then returns to his story of prying gold from a cliff while three efts approached.

"Last time," Thancred whispers to her. "It was silver and only two efts."

"Oh? When I first heard it, there were five efts and a cache of diamonds."

"We should keep a record." He turns as a Hyur adventurer approaches–short, pale, blonde, pretty. She’s not one Nerys recognizes, and her gear looks freshly purchased. Neither fact alone means she is new but together, they point to a fresh recruit for Slafborn.

“Thancred,” the woman plants her fists on her hips. “I haven’t seen you around much.”

He sweeps into a bow, looking up at her through a curtain of hair. “My apologies, Deidra. Scion business keeps me quite busy. Are you off for a mission today?”

“Me? Not that I had planned.” She smirks. “But perhaps you and I could undertake one today…?”

“Ah, I am spoken for this afternoon.” He steps back and gestures. For the first time, Deidra spares Nerys a glance. Eyes narrow with suspicion. “You of course know Mistress Eluned, of the Scions? I hear she’s famous in some places.”

The cheeky wink-and-a-grin he sends Nerys merits no less than her most expressive eyeroll. 

“Oh!” Tension seeps out of the woman. She gives Nerys a polite smile. “Yes, yes, of course. Everyone knows about Mistress Eluned. So you’ll be busy the whole day…?”

“I’m afraid so.” Thancred captures Deidra’s hand, presses it to his mouth. “But we might quest together sometime soon?”

"That would be lovely. You know where to find me, at any time." Deidra kisses his cheek and then turns away, walking in a deliberate manner to keep the eye on her. It works–Nerys and everyone else cannot look away from the gentle sway of hips. 

She really cannot fault his taste. Even if the woman all but ignored her. 

"...a quest," Nerys says at last. "Is that a euphemism?"

"No. Well...no, not so far but it seems like it will be." Thancred loops his arm through her. "If you're all set, I promised you a treat."

"I'm all set. What do you have planned?"

"Mm, it's more fun to show you. Fair warning, there will be stairs."

They climb to the upper level of the city. It is mostly residences up here, mostly owned by Rowena, mostly occupied. Tataru somehow managed to procure two apartments for some of the Domans. (No one quite knows how or dares ask.)

Some enterprising residents–with their landlady's approval and weekly inspections–have turned their rooms into businesses. The tea shop I'zalani works at is one such place. Thancred leads her to another, in the eastern wall of the city. A small bronze plaque is set on the door with lettering carved into it.

_Revenant Coffee Co._

_Open Daily_

Below that hangs an enchanted piece of cardstock impervious to the elements. Rowena’s stamp of approval for the week shimmers in cobalt ink. Last time she visited the tea shop, the ink was lavender.

"After you," says Thancred, holding open the door.

Nerys has only had coffee once but the aroma is distinctive, reminding her of the cafe in Ul’dah she purchased it from. It wraps around her with accompanying notes of vanilla, chocolate, and cinnamon. The walls add to the vibrant sense memory, lined with red and gold tapestries in geometric designs she has seen a hundred times in that city. 

There is room enough for three tables with two chairs each and a plush red couch in the back corner with an oblong table before it. (Said couch is occupied by a pair of Hyur drinking from small, delicate cups.) The rest of the space is behind a countertop, filled with equipment and bottles and burlap bags. A heavy bolt of hempen weave hangs across the back, likely separating the shop from the rest of the living quarters. 

Nerys approaches the counter. The blonde Miqo'te woman behind it smiles at her, amber eyes taking her in. Assessing as she says, "Thancred, introduce me to your guest."

Thancred grins. "As if you don't already suspect."

The woman gives him an unimpressed look. She is the same type of gentle beauty as Higiri, but the expression is all steel and vinegar. Nerys likes her immediately.

"My abject apologies. A'gnayak, this is Nerys Eluned, my friend and comrade. Nerys, this is A'gnayak Kett, proprietor of the Revenant Coffee Company."

“It’s nice to meet you,” says Nerys, inclining her head.

“And I, you. As you can imagine, I’ve heard much about you.” A'gnayak seems unsurprised that the Elezen before her is _the_ Warrior of Light. "What would you like?"

“I’m afraid I’m a bit of a novice here.” Nerys looks over the large piece of slate hung upon the wall. The menu is written neatly in chalk. “Perhaps something with chocolate? I do like strong tea but I always pair it with cream and a touch of sugar. I don’t know if that helps.”

“It helps. So a sweet tooth, but not overly so.” A'gnayak plucks down a small cup and a larger one shaped like a bowl. “Thancred, espresso as usual?”

“Please.” He nods. “By the by, have you cut your hair? You look fetching.”

“Oh?” Her carmine lips curve again. “Do you prefer it this way?”

“Ah you shan’t trap me so.” He wags a finger. “You are radiant no matter what.”

“Very good. I won’t poison your drink today.”

Thancred laughs and escorts Nerys to the table furthest from the counter and customers. Nerys reaches for the iron back of the chair but he is quicker, pulling it out for her with a half-bow. She grins and seats herself as if she were arranging long skirts upon the garnet and orange cushion.

“...I have to ask.” Her eyes flicker to A'gnayak.. “Of the women you have flirted with today…”

“Only I’zalani,” he says in a hushed voice. “I meant to tell you about her when we met again. Then you appeared before I could.”

She nods. “But you would like to seduce them all eventually?”

“Ah…” His smile turns sheepish. “Not _all_. Flirting and flattery is easy. But arranging trysts while preserving the safety of Eorzea? More complicated than you might think. Especially now that I am a man with _responsibilities._ ”

She touches his hand. Tries to keep the reproach out of her voice while lowering her volume to a whisper. “Moreso, if the lady expects commitment to follow.”

“Nerys.” He gives her hand a squeeze. “I’m not likely to leave you any time soon.”

“That’s not…” Well, it is a little, but not for the reason he suggests. She is less concerned he will run off with F’lhaminn than that he might decide he isn’t interested in her anymore. Especially as Nerys’ feelings for him keep growing. And none of that is relevant to this conversation. “My point is, if I demand you’re honest with me….I‘m bound to request you’re honest with others.”

“Being honest with you is no demand,” he brings her knuckles to his lips. “You see me as I am and still like me. That’s rare”

Her stomach flutters at the courtly touch even as her frown deepens. “Yes, but-”

“Here you are.” A'gnayak sets the cups upon their table. “Is he bothering you, Warrior of Light?”

“As if Nerys would suffer me if I was such a bother,” Thancred says, releasing her hand. “What must I do, A'gnayak, to have you be nice to me?”

“You,” she says, placing her hands on her hips. “You would not be so interested if I was sugar sweet. You come here because you enjoy my bite.”

“‘’Tis such a pretty bite...mayhaps I can convince you to demonstrate someday.”

A'gnayak darts a glance at Nerys. “To flirt so shamelessly when he has a beautiful woman already with him. How do you stand it?”

Nerys snorts. “He’ll make it up to me, in his way.”

“Oh?” Those amber eyes assess her again, heat flaring behind them. “He had better.”

She walks away with a deliberate toss of her long blonde hair, hip grazing against Thancred. He chuckles, raising the dainty cup to his lips. “Well then. Try her creation and let me know how she did.”

Nerys takes the larger cup in both hands and raises it to her lips. Chocolate and coffee scents flood her senses; bitter and sweet and rich. When she sips, the notes are the same with more depth and complexity. Sweet enough to highlight the chocolate and cream, strong enough with the intensely roasted coffee. She sighs and takes a longer sip.

“Good?”

“Fantastic.” 

“We’ll make a convert out of you yet.”

“Liking this won’t mean I’ll start to dislike tea.”

“Yes well…”

He leads their conversation in a merry dance, pretending to convince her to drop “leaf water” altogether. Which then leads to actual chatter about the type of tea he does like (“ginger or peppermint only”) and what coffee drink she should try on her next visit. By the time they have paid and left, she realises they never finished their talk. 

It seems too much to bring it up again. She will wait and hope he takes her words to heart.


	3. III.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That lovely knight enters the scene
> 
> Thancred knows how to read people.

If she returns from Coerthas distracted, her comrades don’t notice.

They crowd about the shipments from Ishgard, opening crates with the glee of children surrounded by nameday presents. Moenbryda stays strong a while, determined to hover over Nerys in case any side effects manifest from Shiva and the aether stream. Strong, until Y’shtola brings out a box of chocolate truffles for all to share.

Thankfully, Nerys is well enough to go unattended. Just sore, tired, _shaken by Iceheart, a bit emotional about.._.

The actual children present have to stay put, studying under Hozan’s watchful eye. It doesn’t stop them from peeking over at every opportunity. Even the promise of a lesson from Coultenet (whom they adore) cannot distract them.

“Lord Aymeric was true to his word.” Alphinaud moves to her side. He presses a knuckle to his mouth in thought. “Though I hadn’t expected it to arrive this quickly.”

“Twas House Fortemps knights who brought it with all haste,” Y’shtola says, turning to them. “They said more supplies will come, but their commander wanted to make up for the shipments we should have received already.”

“Ah, that makes sense. Lord Haurchefant is too generous by half.”

Nerys nods. Her throat and heart feel too tight. Her voice too rough to reply. She’d hoped distance would dim the shock of her revelations. 

Sometimes, she is a fool.

“There’s a crate just for you, Nerys!” Yda declares, waving. “Come open it, we all want to know what’s inside.”

“Yda,” says Papalymo. “Maybe she doesn’t want to-”

“Please? Please?” Yda clasps her hands before her. “Have mercy on our curiosity, oh Mistress Eluned.”

“...Very well.” Nerys says, approaching the crate Yda points at. Surely there is nothing scandalous inside, despite the rumors she has heard and the teasing remarks he tosses around. At his core, Lord Haurchefant is a gentleman.

She takes the crowbar and pries up the lid. Aware of all their eyes on her. Y’shtola, Yda, Moenbryda, Tataru, even Papalymo, even...oh, Thancred is here, sitting at one of the tables and pretending he isn’t curious. She nods and he waves back.

Inside is a folded note atop black velveteen; sealed with scarlet wax embossed with the Fortemps unicorn. _They are_ all _watching. Twelve, please let me appear natural._ Nerys slips her knife under the seal. Her eyes race over the somewhat cramped handwriting.

> _My dearest friend Nerys,_
> 
> _I had this crate packed some time ago to send, but held it back once word of the thefts came. Please enjoy these tokens now and let them warm you whenever you visit our Camp._
> 
> _Tell Master Alphinaud there are items on the way for him as well, only the Weaver I commissioned had some difficulty locating the exact shade of blue I require. As for Master Garlond, I had the opportunity to press gifts upon him but a month ago. He has become a treasured guest of Dragonhead though I see him (and all of you) far less than I would like._
> 
> _Next time you set out on a dangerous mission, do bring me along? I would feel better knowing I could help my friend the next time she fights for Ishgard._
> 
> _Yours,_
> 
> _Lord Haurchefant Greystone_
> 
> _Knight Commander of Camp Dragonhead_
> 
> _House Fortemps_

Relief and disappointment fight within her. He regards her with the same friendship and loyalty as he does Alphinaud and Cid. _He...regards me with the same friendship and loyalty as he does Alphinaud and Cid._

“Ah, it says there will be some on the way for you as well Alphinaud. Haurchefant had some trouble with a Weaver.”

“Oh that is alright, I’m not jealous,” Alphinaud insists with the barest hint of pink in his face. “It would make sense, if you were the only one to get special gifts. With how well he regards you.”

Curious glances flicker her way. She feels Thancred’s most of all, as embarrassment stains her blue-gray cheeks. “He is very grateful that I saved his dear friend. And for everything else we’ve done for Ishgard.”

“Well that, but I think by now he considers you a friend of the same strength as Lord Francel. You remember what Ser Aymeric said, about his knights while you fought.”

“What? What did he say?” Yda demands. To deflect would appear odd. Nerys looks to Alphinaud for help.

Who takes her look as a request to tell the story. “As Aymeric told it, Haurchefant was most distressed when he heard Nerys would face Iceheart with only three adventurers. Half a dozen knights had to restrain him from making all haste to aid her.”

“Oh,” Yda says with a little sigh. “Nerys, that’s lovely.”

“He is a good-hearted man,” says Nerys. She rolls back the cloth, hoping to distract them with treasures. The first bundle she unfurls is a deep plum cloak, lined with soft fur that also trims the collar in a grand, imposing way. If she had to guess...it is murderously expensive. She gives it to Yda, Y’shtola, and Moenbryda to admire. Pulls out a pair of matching gloves lined with the same material.

“A good-hearted man,” Thancred repeats, now right behind her. She near drops the gloves in surprise. “Boots as well, it looks like?”

“Yes…” Nerys pulls out the well-made boots, setting them upon one of the other crates. The rest completes the outfit: sturdy woolen tunic, thick corduroy trousers, earmuffs to fit her Elezen ears. All in the shades of purple and black she favors. And a book of Ishgardian fairy tales she had perused in his office months ago. This one is a new copy, with still crisp pages.

“Would that I had such a friend,” Moenbryda says with an appreciative whistle. “Is this what happens when you’re a primal slayer?”

“I suspect it’s what happens when you’re Nerys,” says Thancred. “But slaying primals must help.”

Minfilia rescues her then, needing a word. And then duty and danger call her away minutes later. When she returns to Rising Stones in the late hours, she’s forgotten all about it. And everything else in the absolute fatigue crushing her down. Right until she enters her bedroom, and finds both Thancred and her crate waiting for her.

He closes the book he’s browsing (a volume about leatherworking from her bookshelf, not the new one from Haurchefant). Rises from lounging sideways in her armchair. His brown eyes flick over her in the usual survey, cataloguing what she needs from him in moments. Not that he has to try very hard tonight.

“Welcome back. Shall I draw you a bath?”

Nerys shakes her head. “Just...need to rinse off.”

“Do you need help? Just help, on my honor.”

She hesitates...and then nods. Even if he does get frisky, she would like someone to hold up her heavy limbs. But for all his cheeky smiles, he keeps to his word and helps her wash off the battle and the exhaustion. By the time she is wrapped in a robe and he is toweling off her hair, she feels some energy returning. Having fingers on her neck and scalp awakens stirrings she didn’t think would return until after a long nap.

“I’ll be right out,” she says, taking the towel from his hands. “Go on ahead.”

He presses a kiss to her temple, and then to her cheek. Lingering just a moment with each. “Don’t be too long. We haven’t had a proper reunion yet.”

“I won’t be.” She pats his bottom, the only barrier a thin towel. He smirks and slips out the door, leaving her to prepare herself. Nerys makes note of the new red marks on his back–she thought she had spied them under the water but had been too relaxed to make sure.

Other nights, she might linger through her routine with a thousand thoughts passing through her. With a goal, she hurries herself through the rest of her grooming–wash face, brush teeth, brush and braid hair, take potions–to rejoin him in the main room.

He remains clad in just the towel, one shoulder propped against a bedpost with his arms folded. Her mouth goes dry at the gleam in his eyes. “Did you miss me then, Thancred?”

“Dreadfully.” He crooks a finger at her. As she nears, she realises she didn’t notice the faint healing lines on his chest as well. She traces them, parting his arms to get a better look. “Ah, those are from A'gnayak. Who almost didn’t believe me when I said you were okay with it.”

Good. He is being honest with her. “It worked out for you in the end.”

“Yes, I prevailed. Though if you could drop some hints when you see her next…”

“I shall.” 

“Bless you.” He slides a hand beneath her damp braid to cup her neck. Kisses her while prying the towel from her hands. Cool air wraps about her and the water drying on her skin. His mouth dips down, drinking droplets from her collar and the tops of her breasts. Need and heat pulse through her.

Seeing her naked desire gives him a smug little grin. Nerys needs him too much to care. Thancred pulls her to the bed, settling her down before propping himself above her. She is already pressing her thighs together, hips eager for him. Her arms go about his neck, urging him down. He stays put.

“So,” he drawls. “When do I get to meet this knight courting you?”

Nerys makes a frustrated noise. He stays put, waiting for her answer. No jealousy in his expression, just...curiosity and mischief. A lot of mischief.

“Courting is a strong word. I think he's effusive.” If she thought it was more, she might not feel _so_ raw right now.

“Mm.” Thancred fit his lips to her neck, accepting her answer. “Who wouldn't be, where you are concerned?”

She swats his arm, unsurprised when he pins that wrist above her head. His other hand begins a slow survey, tracing down between her breasts and squeezing each; rolling each nipple until she makes a needy noise; tracing the lines of her abdomen. Nerys squims in answer, opening her legs to him.

His grip on her wrist is strong. She doesn’t fight it all that much–she wants him to take over. Make her forget about everything but this and them and now.

“Do you need me to touch you here?” He whispers against her ear. One finger trails down to just above her clit, the others spreading her slick folds. 

“Yes,” she groans. “Please…”

“Or maybe…” He withdraws from her, raising his fingers to his lips. Cleaning them off slow, making a display of his tongue sliding over every ilm. He chuckles at the desperate rock of her hips. Seeing him leaning against her bed was enough to make her wet. All of this is _gratuitous._

“Please,” she says again. “Thancred, I need you.”

“Ah,” he sighs against his hand. “Those words have pierced my heart, lady fair.” He pulls away to throw aside the towel falling down his hips. Freed, Nerys sits up to trace his muscled thighs, hand grazing his erect cock. Thancred catches her hand and wraps it around him, guiding her fingers to draw moisture from the head and slide down his solid heat.

“I love the feel of you,” Nerys whispers. “I want it inside me. I want you to fuck me so that I’ll feel it for days-”

He kisses her hard, hungry. Pushes down and straddles her so that his length presses against her stomach. When she whimpers, he nips her lower lip. Then he withdraws so he can line himself up. Open her for him.

There are other long days of battle, when she wants him slow and gentle. Focusing on each ilm of her until she is utterly pliant. Other times she needs hard and fast, a cathartic release. Now is the latter and he needs no coaxing to take control, sliding into her in one sharp thrust.

Thancred finds the tempo she demands, the air filling with their moans and rapid slap of flesh on flesh. His body presses to hers, hands gripping her thighs and mouth working against her nipples. Drives into her again and again.

Nerys arches up and up into him, clenching, grasping. Increasing her speed. He shakes with the effort of holding back, the merciless pace she demands eroding his usually exquisite stamina. Thancred comes with a sharp cry, spilling into her with a series of shuddering thrusts. 

She lays there, panting and short of climaxing but feeling lighter all the same. But he won’t leave her there. Thancred slides his hand down her stomach, replacing his cock with fingers while his thumb circles her clit. The wet, lurid sounds and the feel of him in her while she is dripping is almost too much.

“There.” He positions himself alongside her, kissing her throat. “Arch your back like that. Dirty girl, still begging for it.”

The words are a jolt to her spine and she tightens around him. For all the poetry he recites for others, it’s his frank words that stir her most. It doesn’t take long for her to come, sobbing his name as she writhes under his hands and lips.

The world is dark as she keeps her eyes closed, focusing on her erratic breathing. The staccato rhythm of her heart in her ears. Thancred moves about as she does so, the soft clicks indicating he’s turning off the lights. Moving the curtains to shut against the sun vents. Distantly, she hears the bathroom tap. Moments later: a cool, wet cloth between her legs.

"Are you asleep then?" He asks, voice low and hushed.

"No just...recovering." She opens one gold eye. His silhouette in the dark strokes her cheek before he leaves to discard the washcloth. Her eyes adjust fast, used to much darker caves and underground tunnels than this. The details slot into view–her bed, her canopy, the furniture and the crate and his handsome face, watching her from the foot of his bed.

“Better now?”

"...Better." Nothing solved, but the knot of tension is loose. Her mind doesn’t want to race to and fro. "Come to bed?"

"In a moment." Thancred takes a seat on the edge of the mattress, crossing his legs. Considers her, though his Hyur eyes see far less in the shadows. "Does it distress you, the idea of his lordship falling for you?"

“...No.” She adjusts herself against the pillows to get a clearer view of him. "It is only...the story Alphi told. When Aymeric said that, I...realised that what I felt for Haurchefant was not just friendship. I don’t think it has been for a while now. Would that my heart had warned me sooner."

"Ah. Well. If you two are so wild for each other, I do not see the problem."

"You’ll understand when you meet him. He is the most open and generous man I have ever met. I can’t-won’t read into things." She presses her forearm over her eyes. It feels cool against her flushed brow. "To have his friend make an unwanted advance and turn things awkward? I don’t want that."

The bed shifts under his weight, creaking as he nears. His hand wraps around her wrist and he tugs her arm from her face. Pushes away the hair clinging to her face and neck.

"Sweetheart," he says. An endearment he uses when he is about to be tender or challenging. "I have seen you assert yourself in myriad ways. You are never afraid to demand anything, particularly if it's justice or fairness or things of the like."

"Where is this going?"

"But." He runs his index finger along the tip of her pointed ear. Traces it down to her neck and rubs a gentle circle into her skin, "It's different when it comes to people you could fall in love with. Or...are in love with, in his lordship’s case.”

Thancred’s smile is soft. “You act as if your interest or attention could be a burden. If I hadn’t struggled so much with holding back from you...you would have also let me pass by."

"I know what you are saying. But I've no indication that he-"

“I think you might look closer. As much as I love my friends, I don’t send a full winter wardrobe, personally escorted by my knights.”

“Point taken. Though, you don’t have knights and he is sending Alphinaud a winter wardrobe. _And_ sent one to Cid-”

“I will bet you 100 gil that yours is the most elaborate of the gifts. One day…” Thancred slides under the blankets at her back and tucks her back against his chest. "One day, we will undo every time a person like Raena said you were not enough.”

Nerys sighs. “Only if I get to do the same for you. I don’t think you realise how wonderful you are.”

“Let’s postpone that argument until we wake up.” He kisses her cheek. “But for the record, having a long series of failures is very different than people telling you untrue things.”

“You cannot postpone the argument and then immediately argue.”

“You see? Another failure on my part.” His light tone invites her to laugh at him but she doesn’t. She’s seen him do this too many times. Instead, she takes one of his hands and kisses his palm, soft and reverent.

“Till tomorrow,” she says against his hand. “Deal?”

Thancred sighs and snuggles against her. “Deal.”


	4. IV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mind the tags for this, the final chapter
> 
> Happy femslash february

There is no time to breathe. 

A shadow settles over the Scions and Crystal Braves. Moenbryda is gone. Wilred is missing. Riol is increasingly cryptic, unwilling to clarify his suspicions until he gathers more information. Ishgard is in peril. The other city-states cannot promise more than token aid.

Nerys is not prepared to see _ Estinien  _ again. She reaches for her lance before sense and diplomacy still her hand. He catches that; smirks a little before promising he is not there for a rematch. Alphinaud drops his own diplomatic mask to gawk at them, at this dragoon in particular.

She has not told her comrades much about her training in Ishgard. Only Thancred knows about the last time she saw the other Azure Dragoon. The day their fragile alliance was torn asunder when he was a furious, vengeful icon of Nidhogg’s rage and his own; when she chose to protect their teacher.

Ser Aymeric cuts through the tension and Alphinaud’s staring as deftly as she hopes he handles a sword. From there, it’s all business and the Warrior role she knows best. The crisis is so terrible, so imminent that she and other adventurers are allowed on the Steps of Faith. She doesn’t need to see the surprise on Haurchefant’s face to know what that means.

They clinch their victory. The air clears, her churning aether quiets, the screams of terror cease. It is always a bit like waking up, except there is a clarity when a lance is in her hands. All that matters is the target and how she might leap at it. As relieved as she is to be done, there is always pain when her other cares return.

Estinien appears upon one of the turrets, looking down at her. She nods. He nods back. And leaps away, to her relief.

Nerys has no heart or energy for the celebrations in Whitebrim Front and Camp Dragonhead. She asks Alphinaud to give her excuses and takes the aetheryte to Revenant's Toll. Lord Haurchefant–who seems to have an extraordinary talent for finding her–almost reaches her. He lifts a hand in greeting as the teleportation magicks whirl about her, elation writ upon his features. She waves her hand to bid him farewell and watches concern overtake his face when she disappears.

Rest won’t cure things, but it has to help. And maybe Thancred is back.

When she steps into the Rising Stones, raised voices greet her. She rushes in, holding her lance in both hands. To have  _ another _ attack right in their base-

Higiri sees her and blanches. More embarrassment than fear or alarm. Nerys slows to a walk and the scene reveals itself in pieces. Y'shtola and Papalymo with disapproving expressions. Yda doubled over with laughter.

Thancred, desperate to keep the peace. Cecile, A'gnayak, I'zalani, a well-dressed Hyur woman, and Deidra. The last points a finger at A'gnayak and declares her a "Miqo'te Manstealer."

_ Shit. _

"...what happened?" Nerys asks Higiri. She thought that disclosing the arrangement to A'gnayak meant…more fool her, assuming.

Higiri grimaces. "I’zalani and A’gnayak came in looking for Thancred. And not like...well they seemed peaceable with each other; as if they were fine with showing up together?"

“They weren’t here to confront him. you mean.”

Higiri nods, cheeks coloring. "Thancred arrived and greeted them both warmly. And then as they were conversing...the rest of them came in. Catching Thancred in the act, so to speak."

Nerys looks at the group again. "They don't seem a unified front now."

"I...suspect they were when it came to realizing his faithlessness. But now, they seem determined to prove their claim stronger than the rest."

Nerys knows at least one of them doesn’t actually  _ have  _ a claim. In that matter, Thancred is only guilty of someone taking his flirtation for courtship. But with the others…

"I see. Thank you." Irritation and guilt pulse through her in equal measure. She takes a few steps forward, catching the attention of her fellow Scions. Yda tries to smother her giggles.

"Sorry," she says. "Sorry. I'm sure this isn't funny for you."

Nerys folds her arms. "Not really. I warned him this might happen."

Papalymo seems to startle at that, eyes wide. "I beg your pardon...you knew he…?"

Yda turns to him. "Papalymo, did you...not know?"

"Know what?" He demands. "Nerys, have you been advising Thancred about his love life? I must say, I do not think it is going well…"

Another peal of laughter escapes Yda and she shakes with the effort of smothering it. In another time, Nerys might have given in and laughed with her. This situation is so absurd, so much like a scene torn out of some novel, it should be tragically hilarious. 

Tonight, she is heavy and sad and upset. Bristling under the weight of Y’shtola’s perceptive gaze and Yda’s suppressed mirth. She watches I’zalani sidle up to Thancred, whispering in his ear and taking his hand. Tugging him away from the fracas.  _ Oh, absolutely not. _

Nerys strides forward, smiling too-wide, too bright. "I'zalani, it's nice to see you! Why don’t we have a drink while Thancred takes care of this?”

"Nerys," says Thancred. "This is…"

“You seem busy, Thancred.” Nerys thrusts a hand out to I’zalani. “We haven’t chatted in ages.”

“Ah...well…” I’zalani hesitates and then takes the offering. "She's right. It’s been too long."

They leave him to his mess and Nerys escorts the other woman to the bar. Moments later, some embarrassment pierces through her haze of indignation. She turns to her companion, voice low. “I apologize. That was...well, that was high-handed of me.

“It was.” I’zalani nudges her hip against Nerys’. “Fortunate for you, I like a high-handed woman. You promised me a drink?"

"Yes. Order whatever you like."

I'zalani props her chin in a well-manicured hand. Her claws are petal pink and shine in the gentle lighting of the Rising Stones. "Higiri, yes? I know you from the shop. Sencha in bulk, and sometimes a cup of matcha served in the store."

Higiri nods. "Your shop is one of the few in Eorzea who prepare it correctly.”

"Truly? I'm glad to hear it. Our boss was very exacting when she trained us." I'zalani peruses the bottles, pink tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth. "A glass of semi-dry Ul'dah White if you have it."

"We do. Hawthorne Cider, Nerys?"

"A tiny glass. Please."

I'zalani frowns as Higiri sets to work. "Perhaps you should opt for the larger glass. You look like you could use the indulgence."

"Is it so obvious?" Nerys massages her temple with one hand. "It’s been a trying few weeks. But nothing I cannot handle. And I have handled far worse."

I'zalani makes a tutting noise and runs a hand down Nerys' spine. She can’t feel it through her drachen mail, but still shivers. "Poor Warrior of Light. I won't tell anyone you're mortal. I promise.".

"Twelve forfend. I'm afraid you're seeing me fresh from battle too. I usually prefer visiting you once I’m presentable."

"Surely you come for our tea, not the company."

"Why not both?" Nerys asks. She finds herself smiling a little. "I enjoy your tea; _and_ you always have excellent stories and beverage recommendations.”

She glances back at the group of feuding women. Cecile draws herself up to full height, already impressive as an Elezen. She makes a wide gesture toward herself, declaring  _ she _ is Thancred's muse.

"I hope this doesn’t cause problems for you at work."

"Not as long as I don't admit what I knew." I'zalani says, nodding in thanks for her glass of wine. She clinks it against Nerys' cider. "Or that I actually slept with him, while she just received poetry."

"Poetry," Nerys repeats.

"Mm. Coming in and buying different varieties of tea, always waxing about the ways her beauty inspired in him new similes and couplets." 

"I...did notice that, when we went there together." He doesn't even  _ like _ tea. Well, none besides peppermint and ginger. Nerys takes a very long drink. "It sounds like he did tell you, about us?"

"A'gnayak told me. Though, I suspected that morning you found us."

"Ah. I had hoped...never mind. I'm glad you weren't hurt."

"On the contrary." I'zalani looks up with her big brown eyes, smiling so that her fangs show. "We hoped we might get the two of you together. I was disappointed when I heard you were away on a mission."

Nerys sets her cup down so she doesn't spill Hawthorne Cider everywhere. She has to admire the nerve. And can't deny that both women are attractive and the four of them together would be...well.

It isn’t that she hasn’t thought about either of them  _ that _ way. But Nerys didn’t like to be a customer who mistook politeness for flirtation. Apparently, it  _ has _ been more than manners.

"And now those two are mired in Thancred's mess." Nerys says. Her voice sounds hoarse to her ears, her body all too-aware of how close I'zalani is. "It's a shame your night was ruined."

"Well, who said it's ruined?" I'zalani sets her glass down as well. "You have a bed, don't you?"

It is not a good idea. In fact, it is probably a very bad idea to go off with Thancred's date while he deals with the mess before him. 

_ But also, you did tell him a few times. Perhaps he might learn his lesson. _

Nerys ignores her conscience, her guilt, her misgivings. Nods. "As a matter of fact, I do."

They don’t end up on the bed. Only because Nerys absolutely cannot attend to her guest before she washes off the grime of battle. She promises I’zalani she won’t keep her waiting. I’zalani agrees–because she insists on joining. And Nerys is not about to contradict a pretty lady, especially one who already taking off her clothes.

Especially if said pretty lady discovers Nerys has not taken advantage of a detachable showerhead. And offers to show her how.

Which is how–once clean–Nerys ends up on her back with I’zalani crouched over her. One clawed hand kneads her breast while the other holds the showerhead just above the nipple. Smiling as Nerys shivers beneath the sensation.

“I-I thought people used this for something else,” Nerys says. Pressing her thighs together in anticipation of that “something else.” She gasps a little when I’zalani parts them with her knee, applying the barest pressure.

Nerys reaches out, squeezes a handful of hip. Watches I’zalani’s eyes flutter shut the more pressure she exerts, her lips parting till her mouth is halo-shaped.

“What do I get?” I’zalani says, voice more breath than sound. “If I put this where you want me to?”

She has a hunch, based on the reactions so far. "If I say I'll spank you otherwise, what would you do?"

"Oh, then I would never give it to you." I'zalani purrs. "Maybe now I will hold out longer so you promise me more delights like that."

“ _ Twelve–”  _ Nerys tugs her down and slots their lips together. Licks deep into her sweet mouth until her own lungs burn and I’zalani is utterly pliant. Whimpering soft and needy, the showerhead clattering to the tiles. Her soft, wet skin sliding against Nerys’; her curves slippery over Nerys’ chest and under her hands.

“Mistress Eluned.” I’zalani raises her head a fraction. Both are out of breath, fingers and claws and nails digging into each other. “Let me repay you for that kiss.”

“Good because-'' She has enough time to say before I’zalani grabs the showerhead and repositions herself. Water pulses against her clit, thrumming a constant rhythm. Pleasure consumes her, faster than her own fingers have ever brought her to. Nerys shuts her eyes so tight in response the aether lights don’t register. Nothing does–the water drying on the rest of her, the cooling tiles upon her back, everything else about this day–it all goes away and leaves  _ this _ .

I’zalani kisses her and Nerys responds with all her hunger, tangling her hand in the wet, white hair. Her hips thrust forward for more warmth, more friction. She latches onto I’zalani’s shoulder, drinking the water from her teak skin. Opens her eyes again to sink her teeth into the side of her neck, tasting water and soap. Her partner emits a high, quavering note while her whole body shudders.

She is more responsive than anyone Nerys has been with. If there is anything left of her when she reaches her peak, she wants to turn the tables. Make I’zalani feel everything she does now and watch her fall apart. And right now, Nerys is ready to burst. Her hands reach out for more,  _ something _ to hold onto. She finds it in I’zalani’s hips, and still she feels desperate for much and more and everything- 

And I’zalani seems to understand what she needs because she slides two fingers into Nerys and the feel of something filling her with the constant sensation of the water-

And her climax builds faster in her, tremors moving through her thighs and calves- 

When it comes, she arches into the sensation, gasping and gasping with release. The pressure remains, staying until her body stops its tremors and her head lolls to the side and her eyes close again.

She looks up a few moments later, breath a little more even. “I...I see what I have been missing.”

I’zalani kisses her brow. The tender gesture is a warm balm, now that she no longer has the heated jet of water upon her. “Good, because we are not yet-”

The shower door slides open. 

Nerys bolts upright, throws herself into a protective crouch before I’zalani. No lance nearby but she keeps weapons on hand everywhere-

A’gnayak frowns at them, hands on her hips. “I’zalani, I believe I made myself clear.”

“Ah…” I’zalani props her chin upon Nerys’ shoulder and wraps her arms about her. “I know, but you were busy and Nerys was so inviting…”

“Um,” Nerys clears her throat. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that downstairs.”

A’gnayak cuts her hands through the air in an impatient gesture. “I’ve dealt with far worse than green girls and foolish lotharios. But I told I’zalani that if we enjoyed you, it would be at the same time.”

To that, Nerys gapes in response. Has no reply to the heat in A’gnayak’s eyes or I’zalani nuzzling against her back.

“It’s not too late…” I’zalani says. “We’ve only just begun. Right, Nerys?”

Nerys swallows. Comes to a decision. “Right. Right. There is um, plenty of room.”

A’gnayak smirks and unties the sash at her waist. “Good.”

* * *

It is very warm and very soft when she wakes. 

Dawn peeks through the sun vents and her eyelids. Nerys curses herself for not closing the shutters. Opens an eye and finds her arm, the wrists marked with claw marks. They must be everywhere on her, outnumbered by all the bites upon her skin. Someone murmurs into her back and she cranes her neck, careful about waking anyone. 

I’zalani has her face tucked into Nerys’ spine and is curled like a crescent moon; legs folded tight against her chest. A’gnayak molds against her spine, arms wrapped tight about the other Miqo’te. They both look inordinately peaceful. Content.

No peace waits for Nerys as the fog of sleep wanes. Just guilt. Thancred must have figured out where she went. Who she went with. Leaving him to deal with it all while she stole his company for the evening. 

_ Deal with the situation  _ he _ created even when you warned him. You wouldn’t tolerate it if he treated you thus. Why should you tolerate it when someone else gets hurt? _

She is willing to believe one or two mistook his flirting for courtship. She is also very sure that if A’gnayak hadn’t told her, I’zalani wouldn’t have known what was going on between Nerys and Thancred. And Deidra almost  _ certainly _ did not know, and Thancred had _certainly_ slept with her.

Still. Still. She can tell herself that he was busy cleaning up his own messes. That she needed release after a rough few weeks. 

All that can be true and she could be attracted to these women-

-and have, in some part, used them to teach Thancred a lesson. Justified or not, last night she’d been unkind to three people in different ways.

A’gnayak locks her amber eyes with hers. Lifts an eyebrow and whispers. “Regrets, Warrior of Light?”

“...I don’t regret you,” Nerys says, also whispering. “You two were wonderful.”

“Ah, but you regret that we helped your small revenge.” A’gnayak strokes I’zalani’s ears until the other woman stirs and yawns. “Zalani, shall we make her pay a penance?”

“Hm?” I’zalani murmurs. Smiles. “Penance?”

“Yes, dear heart. No, not you. Don’t get too excited.”

“It wasn’t revenge,” says Nerys. “He didn’t wrong me. I just...wanted him to act differently.”

“Some men won’t listen to wise words. It has to go wrong for them first.” A’gnayak reaches over, tracing the back of her claws along Nerys’ hip. “I am glad to show him what happens when he is careless. And as I propositioned you, I do not allow you to say you manipulated me.”

A’gnayak curls a hand around I’zalani’s throat, lifting her chin up higher. Pressing her lips to the white fur at I’zalani’s ears. Her index and middle finger have their claws filed down. The rest are sharp and lay against I’zalani’s jaw, just indenting the flesh. “But I will exact something for using my lady, however willing she was to get you alone. I think that’s fair.”

Nerys turns all the way around and runs a hand over I’zalani’s shoulder. “Your...lady? You two are a couple?”

“You didn’t know?” I’zalani says, her giggle a little strained with the pressure against her neck and chin. “Perhaps I should start wearing your token, ‘Naya. Maybe a collar or-” She gasps when A’gnayak gives her hip a light slap, eyes fluttering shut. 

“We’ll discuss later. I am waiting for Nerys’ answer.”

They ravished her into oblivion last night and then finished each other as Nerys watched, sated and languid. Even after all that...Nerys wants them. Wants to make it up to them and give some pleasure for the relief they gave her.

“Yes,” she breathes. Her heart stutters with anticipation. “How may I pay you back?”

A’gnayak rolls onto her back, taking I’zalani with her. Her legs spread and she guides her lover to do the same. Aligns I’zalani’s pert bottom with A’gnayak’s navel. “Put that mouth of yours to good work, Warrior of Light. On both of us.”

Nerys crawls into position, her feet brushing the floor as she slides her head between their legs. Presses her lips against their warm thighs, tasting sweat and pleasure from the night before. It is neither pleasant nor unpleasant, just a _ tang _ that is part of this moment. I’zalani’s breath hitches and she looks up to the hands kneading the woman’s breasts. Dragging sharp and blunt nails down her rib cage. 

“You’re not there to tease.” A’gnayak’s voice is cold steel wrapped in silk. “And don’t let I’za distract you. Get to it.”

Nerys bends her mouth to I'zalani first, sliding her tongue between the dampening folds. Licking into her until it is time to move down, drag her mouth to A'gnayak. Swirl her tongue until she feels the woman shudder at the touch. I'zalani keens for more and Nerys obliges, latching onto her clit. 

"May I use my hands?" She asks a few moments later, against A'gnayak’s thigh. Her teeth graze the tender skin, the flesh rippling with movement.

"On her first," says A'gnayak. "As many fingers as she can take."

Nerys’ first two fingers slide in with ease. She strokes while her mouth attends to A'gnayak. The rhythm is imperfect, caught between one's soft whines and the other's strict orders. She moves back and forth, working tongue against clits. Her jaw might ache for it later. She adds a third finger and then a fourth to I'zalani who squirms in delight against her intrusion and A’gnayak’s tight grip. 

A dizzying, delightful whirlwind. Nerys shifts so her legs are fully on the bed, giving herself more leverage and angles to work with. The cool air prickles everywhere at her naked skin, offset by the cauldron of heat between her legs. Their praise is further fire–she would gladly warm herself for hours under their compliments.

"Stop-just on me now," A'gnayak sounds breathier, softer despite her strict command. "Let her ache for it a moment."

"Please…" I'zalani moans, her hips twitching and seeking. Greedy to swallow Nerys’ fingers back up and clench tight about them. "'Naya I'll be so good for you, just please let her touch me."

"No, love. Nerys, take care of me. Use whatever it takes."

A'gnayak's hands are full. Otherwise, Nerys knows those hands would wrap in her hair, her steel grip pushing Nerys against her. So she does it for her: pressing her face against her mound as if shoved there and sucking on the clit. Sliding her fingers in and out, crooking them to make A'gnayak convulse.

It has been a while since Nerys devoured someone's pussy so. She greedily laps away, delighting in the plush thighs that grip her head like a vice. There is almost not enough air. (She likes that too.)

"G-good girl," A'gnayak groans. "Don't you fucking stop. Show my I'za what a good girl does."

Nerys obeys. There is nothing else in the world to distract her. Just these two women and the aching, wet need between her thighs. If she thinks of how her and Thancred’s games of trading dominance have yet to reach this level but maybe they could-

If she thinks of how Thancred would enjoy watching this, stroking himself to completion in the corner-

Those thoughts don't last as A'gnayak arches against her, as Nerys circles her clit unceasingly until the other woman groans a steady stream of curses, her thighs shaking.

"Fuck," A'gnayak cries, voice hoarse as she peaks. Her breath comes fast and heavy as she sits up and opens I'zalani’s legs. Holding her spread like a gift for Nerys, for all of them.

Propped up as she is now, A'gnayak only needs one arm to hold I'zalani against her. The other hand wraps around Nerys' hair. Tugging just so, here and there and there, guiding where her lips go on I'zalani. Nerys is an extension of her fingers, another tool to pleasure her lover. A’gnayak commands her to use her own hand again and she does. Her fingers slide deep into I'zalani, four of them now pumping while her lips and tongue follow orders.

"More," I'zalani wails. "More of your tongue. More of your fingers. Please. Please."

"Do as she says," A'gnayak says.

Nerys hesitates as she adjusts her hand, afraid to cause pain. There is a tug on her scalp on reprimand. 

The night before, they had traded safe words. None came into play–the sex had been intense but involved little of this rough play. Now, it’s clear why A’gnayak insisted. Nerys scissors her fingers, stretching and easing the passage. Her mouth keeps the same gentle, constant pressure on the clit. Sucking upon it as the woman moans under her.

I'zalani is wet and ready, so pliant under her touch. Especially when A'gnayak kisses her, hard and deep and distracting. She doesn’t react as Nerys tucks her thumb in. Her knuckles brush against the opening, rocking into her. The shift happens all at once: her hand is swallowed, pressed in on all sides by the slick, wet heat.

And now I’zalani does respond, and her moans of delight make Nerys feel full and warm and precious. The lust and passion and  _ joy _ are a tidal wave through her. It takes everything to keep her movements subtle, twisting her wrist in gentle motions. She redirects the rest of her ecstasy into lips and tongue, into a quiet keening noise.

I'zalani's hand joins A'gnayak's in her hair and they both press her against the spot, urging her to keep focusing, keep building. Claws dig into her scalp and the keen in her throat gets louder, forming into a guttural cry against I’zalani’s sensitive bud. Her fist rocks a bit too much and there is a moment of panic before she hears and feels I’zalani coming around her hand.

They keep Nerys locked against her, riding the crest of her orgasm as I’zalani’s hips jerk and a claw catches her temple. It is nearly as intense as coming herself, watching I'zalani return breath by breath into her body. 

"Good girls both," says A'gnayak. Her hands run over I'zalani's arms and hips, soothing and petting her. Nerys relaxes her fist. Uses her free hand to gently–so gently–break the seal and extricate herself. She cannot stop beaming under the praise.

"You've paid your penance." A'gnayak wraps a hand behind her neck. Tugs her into a deep kiss that has Nerys' toes curling.

The other two share a look born of long intimacy. Conversations that can be had with eyes and brows. The very signs Thancred teased her about not catching with Hoary and Coultenet. 

_ But I am not thinking of Thancred until later.  _

They move in tandem. A’gnayak eases Nerys to lie against the pillows, pressing her soft breasts and stomach against Nerys’ side. I’zalani settles between her legs, running the tips of her claws light over her skin. Not enough to leave a mark but present and unmistakable,

A'gnayak tilts Nerys' head to the side and kisses her, slow and sweet. Her hand caresses along her side, fingers gliding up and down her hips, her waist, the side of her chest. Nerys sighs when I’zalani presses her wet, hungry mouth to her stomach. Kisses a trail to the juncture of hip and thigh and then down to her knee. Taking her time. 

They are caring and kind and it is the opposite of what Nerys needs right now. "I need relief. Please."

"Let us check." A'gnayak sits up, bends forward. Slide a finger into her and Nerys jerks with want. "Absolutely sopping. See for yourself."

She slides her coated finger into Nerys' mouth, humming in approval when Nerys sucks at it. Tastes salt and tang on the blunted claw.

"I'za," says A'gnayak, slipping two more fingers into Nerys' mouth. "Take care of it."

Greedy, Nerys sucks at the digits. All but sobs around them as I’zalani’s mouth gives her the sweetest relief. She presses her thighs against I’zalani’s shoulders, urging her onward. Without a word, A’gnayak pulls back her hand and begins kneading at Nerys’ breast. The wet fingers are a cool kiss upon her nipple, raising it to a stiff peak.

She is tender there. She is always tender there. But the strength and subtle pain of A'gnayak's hands and I'zalani's gently ravenous mouth on her...they play perfect counterpoint to one another. It's too much after too much. She isn't going to last. Pleasure builds faster and faster, threatening to explode any minute.

"I'za." A'gnayak's voice is soft but brooks no gainsay

I'zalani lifts her head. The smirk on her face turns her into a trickster goddess, mischief sparking in her brown eyes. Without breaking eye contact, she drags the back of her claw through Nerys’ folds. Laughing as Nerys gasps and A’gnayak’s touch gentles to feather light on her stomach.

“Please,” Nerys repeats, squirming.

A'gnayak nuzzles against her cheek, teeth closing down around her earlobe. "I want this to last a little longer. You will come when I think it's time. Yes?"

Nerys grasps at the sheets, making ragged noises. There is another, harder nip at her shoulder. "Use your words."

"O-okay," Nerys groans. "Yes. But please, I'm already on the edge…"

"Good girl, stay there," A’gnayak’s fangs scrape across her neck and shoulders. Latch into her blue-gray skin hard enough to leave a mark.

They dance in this configuration. A'gnayak leads the figure: moving her towards the edge before pulling her from it. Nerys is a quivering mess, less a woman and more a barely held-together bundle of nerves and need and frustration. 

A bite and a whispered endearment is all that keeps her from toppling. But even that cannot hold forever. I'zalani slides a hand between her own legs, her slick lips and chin pressed against Nerys' stomach. "Please 'Naya. I want to taste her when she comes."

“Hm…” A’gnayak sits up now, burying a hand in Nerys’ sweat-soaked curls. Nails dig into her scalp as she forces Nerys to look her in the eye. "Nerys? Would you like to come?"

Nerys makes a sound she never has before, a low groan that vibrates in her throat and slips past her mouth. The grip tightens and she finds her words. "Yes. Please. Please let me come."

"Speak up, pretty thing. I want to hear you."

Her voice raises. "Please. Please A'gnayak-"

“No, no,” A’gnayak shakes her head. “I’m not certain you mean it-”

At this point, Nerys will do anything. To hell with anyone who might walk by or overhear. It’s nothing in the face of such frustration. “Please! Please let me-please I need to-”

“I’zalani, you may.”

“A’gnayak please-” Her breath rushes out of her with a yell as clever fingers and tongue fall upon her. Build her and her and sending her flying high, unfettered, unstoppable-

Her wail fills the room as she climaxes. Stars explode behind her eyes, shut tight because vision is too much. Everything is too much. Two sets of hands anchor her, a tongue works her oversensitized clit through the crash until she's whining for mercy.

In the aftermath, Nerys’ mind is a gentle haze.

Too difficult to open her eyes yet. She sees only the soft blue of light filtered through her eyelids. Hands push her hair out of her face and off of her neck. Stroke her arms. Nerys presses her whole self against the soft, warm touches.

One of them asks if she needs water and she makes an affirmative sound. A soft chuckle. After a few moments, someone urges her to sit up while a cup presses to her lips. Sweet, cold water.

Nerys opens her eyes. Smiles at the two, who smile back. Each pet her shoulder. A'gnayak kisses her, slow and soft. Tips her chin to the side so I'zalani can have her turn. Nerys' arms wrap around them both. She sighs with a laugh, pulling them close. And they stay with her awhile, just like that, warm and sweet.

It's near-silent while her guests clean up in the shower and pull on their clothes. Not uncomfortably so. Nerys is still half-lost in the afterglow and the quiet feels...right after all that. They come to her once dressed, peering to see if she is still awake. She smiles up at them.

"We'll have to do this again," I'zalani says, giving her a brief kiss. "You know where to find either of us."

"Or we'll extend an invitation." A'gnayak strokes her cheek. "Take a little nap, Warrior of Light. You've earned it."

They go to the door and open it. A’gnayak murmurs something in a cool tone, I’zalani with some surprise. A low voice answers them, familiar though the words are lost.

Nerys isn’t surprised when Thancred walks in. His easy gait brings him to sit on the edge of her bed with an amused look that doesn’t quite mask his thoughts. She feels his gaze like a touch, mapping the marks across her skin. He would have seen more if A’gnayak hadn’t tucked the covers about her. 

“...Oh,” she says, sitting up with the blankets about her torso. Realizing. “You heard me.”

“I  _ have _ been subject to A'gnayak's tender mercies. I understand what it’s like. Though, perhaps not to the heights she brought you to." He twirls a lock of her hair about his index finger. "Either way, I deserved it."

Nerys sighs. “No, I don’t think that’s true.”

"Isn't it? Once again, I've failed you." He gives a little shrug and a smile drenched in self-loathing. "At least this time, the consequences are not so dire."

Irritation, hot and biting, strikes through her. She presses her lips together to still the bitter, unkind words before they escape. They burn acrid upon her tongue.

He lifts an eyebrow. "Whatever you are thinking, you might as well say it."

She huffs. “You take the blame for so many things you shouldn’t but I don’t think you’re taking the blame now when you  _ should. _ ”

Thancred winces. She winces too, at the sharpness of her tone and the naked hurt he cannot hide in his eyes. “How am I not taking the blame?”

“This–you’re being so cavalier about it. But do you actually know what you did wrong?”

“I was unkind, just as you warned me not to be. I know that. But it wasn’t intentional. I…”

“I just don’t understand,” she said. “When I take a lover, I’m upfront. I don’t go into details, I just…”

“Nerys, I had no idea Cecile read so much into things. And as for Deidra...it just...it didn’t come up. It’s different for me.” He sits up taller, jaw going tense. “People usually don’t stay when they hear I’m non-exclusive. Not unless they’re a couple who _ get it _ .”

“People don’t always stay for me either when they know,” Nerys shoots back. “But better to miss out than dishonesty, Thancred. It’s not okay.”

“Believe me, I know now.” He lifts his hands. “Something about being in the middle of a fracas for hours into the night makes that clear. You might not think I learned my lesson, but I did.”

“Did you?” She snaps. Then shakes her head. “That was unkind of me. If you say you did, I should believe you.”

There is something wrecked and sad in his gaze. A man facing an end he had expected. Which both tears at her heart and ratchets up her frustration. “But you don’t believe me. You don’t trust me.”

“I trust you with my life, Thancred!” Nerys has not felt this worked up in a long time. It is a struggle to keep herself calm, fair, logical. Her emotions gather in her throat and chest. “But I tried to tell you and you refused to listen and I-...I’m going to have to see it. Or I’m going to wonder if you’ll brush me off again.”

“I didn’t brush you off.” He insists. “I knew what you meant. I was working on it. I’d told A’gnayak and she told ’Zalani.”

“...I know, she said you did. Though you didn’t tell I’zalani.”

“I hadn’t a chance and I knew they would talk about it.” Thancred folds his arms. There is no joviality left in him, no attempt to turn this into something funny. And it scares her even though it’s a good thing. This  _ isn’t _ funny. But she’s never seen him mad like this. “What do you want from me, Nerys?”

“I…” She presses a hand to her forehead. “I don’t know. Time. A moment to gather myself before I say something I regret.”

His breath hitches. “Like what, exactly?”

“I-I don’t know but I’ve already snapped twice. I’m not thinking straight right now and we’re about to go in circles. I don’t want that affecting this. Us.” She gestures between them. “Let’s...talk about this later.”

His lips press into a thin line. “Later then. You probably need the rest after you went off with my date.”

When he says it, she sees the moment he regrets it. He starts to say something. “That was-I didn’t mean you should have stayed but it felt like you were trying to punish me-”

“No, I know, I know I-” Nerys shakes her head. “ It’s alright. We’re fine.” They are not fine. They both know it. “It wasn’t…”

“You asked for space.” He touches her arm. Stands. “...I hate this but I know you’re right about gathering ourselves. So...I’ll leave and let us both gather.”

“Right,” she says, feeling miserable. “We’ll talk later.”

“Later,” he echoes, leaving quick enough to twist at her heart. 

She did the right thing. She did the wrong thing. She sits hunched in her bed for a long while, trying to make sense of everything running through her. 

Nothing helps.

* * *

If she resented Minfilia and Alphinaud sending her all across Eorzea before, she is grateful now. Not that she can compare the two. Alphinaud's role has gone to his head and though he is no terror or tyrant, he does act like she is runner, messenger, valet, and primal slayer all at once.

He wouldn’t start with an apology, as Minfilia does. “I’m truly sorry, I know we’ve given you no time to stop lately. If there is anything I can do to ease things…”

“I’ve the time now. But I appreciate the thought, truly.” She grins and gets a warm, sweet smile in return.

“Of course. But you’ll let us know, should it become too much?”

Nerys promises to do so. That her threshold for “too much” is different from most goes unsaid. She travels hither and yon the next few days and is...okay when it stretches to a week. The Twelve are giving her all the space she could want before she sees Thancred again. (It isn’t intentional. And more than once she is about to raise him on linkpearl. But shouldn’t they talk face to face?)

All those concerns are put to the side when they find Wilred’s body. 

There is no clear answer about who would do such a thing. No dragon or primal to point Nerys at. They need to rely on investigations, on whatever Riol can find. Nerys can only continue in her work as if nothing is wrong because there is nothing she can do just then. And she  _ hates _ it.

The last thing she wants is to attend a party. But Minfilia asks her to: the Sultana and Ser Aymeric have requested her presence. And she is the Warrior of Light and no matter what type of heartbreak she finds, Eorzea needs its champion.

At least, at very least, she has some time to collect herself. Momodi and Minfilia both have tasks for her before the event. Because of course they do.  _ Be grateful _ , she tells herself as she travels across Western Thanalan.  _ You have even more time to gather your wits. And calm down while some heartless monster wanders free- _

Yda raises her on the linkpearl. Threatens to come find her if Nerys isn’t there by the appointed time. 

"Alright, alright." Nerys manages a wan laugh. "You're very excited about all this."

"Of course," says Yda with the forced cheer of someone trying to coax a smile. "The best thing in life is a party you don't have to pay for. Free food, free alcohol, dancing..."

“Save me a dance then,” Nerys tells her, matching the force of her cheer for Yda’s sake. “And I’ll sweep you off your feet.”

“It’s a date!”

Nerys presses the cool metal of her gauntlets to her face when the connection cuts. She’ll end up at this banquet in armor, which is for the best. These people want the Warrior, the dragoon who bested Vishap. Not Nerys in a formal tunic or flowing dress.

Half a bell later, someone raises her linkpearl again. She taps the piece, sighing. "Yda really, I said I would-"

"Not quite," Thancred says, his voice resonating through her. "Do you have a moment?"

Nerys brings Minako to a halt, soothing her yellow feathers when the chocobo chirps in indignation. It’s been a full week since they’ve spoken.  _ Far too long. _ "Yes, I do."

He sighs. "I...don't know if we're quarreling but if we are, I don't care for it."

"I...we're  _ not _ not quarreling."

His laugh is a dry, hollow thing. "Clear as mud."

“...I don’t like it either. We’ve been apart longer than this but not  _ like _ this.”

“Never this unsettled,” he agrees. “You...gave me a lot to think about.”

“And you did the same for me. I-...if I could, I would come see you now but-”

“-But the banquet. I’m assigned to security, about to scout the perimeter. Party crashers would put a damper on things.”

“It would. And...after?”

“And after,” he echoes. “Ul’dah is my city and I know where we might go for the evening.”

“To talk.” She winces. Twelve, but are there any words more ominous than ones about  _ needing to talk _ ?

“Right. Should...I be worried?”

“I don’t think so.” She can’t be certain. And is afraid of what will come after these talks and apologies and recriminations. What if none of it takes? What if he does it again?

But. She trusts him with everything else. Why not give him this chance?

“I’ll be the one with the lance,” she adds with a small smile.

His laugh sounds more like himself. “You have a deal, sweetheart. Till tonight?”

“Till tonight.”

He ends the conversation and Nerys drops her hand from her ear. Lets out a sigh. It is not resolved but they have all night to talk things through. And more days and nights besides. They just have to get through this last round of errands and assignments. Then, they can be Nerys and Thancred rather than Warrior and Rogue.

It isn’t that she looks forward to this. But just _mitigating_ one of the cares upon her is a sweeping relief. She cracks her neck to one side, the other; exhales a slow, long breath.  _ We’’ll figure this out. _

Nerys reaches out and strokes Minako’s neck. “Let’s mosey, girl. We’ve a banquet to make.”

And an appointment to keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> Nerys' adventures continue in "Ardent" and "This World of Trials." From this point, stories in this series will *probably* go in chronological order leading to an eventual OT3...and then an OT6 if I write that far
> 
> Thank you for reading and commenting!

**Author's Note:**

> Always love to read your comments!


End file.
